The Beginnings of a Death Eater
by notwolf
Summary: A young Lucius Malfoy must make a life altering decision for the woman he loves. Some Death Eaters aren't born, they're made.
1. Chapter 1

THE BEGINNINGS OF A DEATH EATER

**Chapter One**

Abraxas Malfoy sat in his study at his desk, waiting. One hand, resting on the surface, tapped a lone finger over and over in a slow, angry rhythm, each tap just a hint more forceful than the last. Finally the door burst open.

Lucius rushed forward with an anxious expression, skidding to a stop short of bumping into the massive desk. "You called for me, Father?"

"Come here, Lucius," said the man in a smooth, controlled drawl.

The ominous tone did nothing to alleviate the boy's apprehension. He edged a few steps toward the man, skirting around the furniture and halting out of arm's reach. "Yes, sir?"

"Closer!" commanded Abraxas.

Lucius inched ahead another pace. Without warning the man sprang out of his chair, snatching his son by his shoulder length hair and dragging him over to a piece of parchment laying on the desk. With his free hand he picked up the paper to wave it under Lucius' nose.

"Do you know what this is?"

Lucius gulped. He knew only too well. "M—my—my O.W.L.S., sir."

"Do you know your scores?"

The boy tried to shake his head, a painful task with his father still gripping his locks. Abraxas let go in order to open the envelope and thrust the offensive page at his son, who studied it briefly. Only two O's. For an ordinary student, the rest of his grades were high, would be considered a cause for rejoicing, but Lucius was not ordinary. He was a Malfoy. Anything less than perfection was a disgrace. He gritted his teeth and dropped his head.

"I'm sorry, Father."

"Sorry," mimicked Abraxas. He let out a disgusted snort. "Your brother and sister both achieved perfect scores in their fifth year—every year, in fact. And _this_ is the best you can do?" He grabbed the parchment from Lucius and tossed it into the fire. "You sicken me."

Since there existed no reply adequate to such a statement, not one that would allow him to keep his teeth intact, Lucius held his peace. To mention that his exemplary brother had been idiotic enough to Apparate inside a wall, killing himself, would be tantamount to suicide for the youth trembling before his sire. To dare bring up the fact that his flawless sister had married a half-breed would send the patriarch into a frenzy directed not at the offender, but at the messenger. And so Lucius kept his silence out of the only thing he fully understood, self-preservation.

"Go to your room, you have studying to do," ordered Abraxas. "Until these grades go up, you're grounded."

Lucius barely kept himself from exclaiming how unfair this was. He wouldn't be receiving more grades until mid-semester next year! His entire summer would be ruined! At least when he got back to Hogwart's his father couldn't keep an eye on him, effectively eliminating the grounding, but meanwhile how was he supposed to see Narcissa, his new girl? He thought better of voicing his dissent.

As he walked toward the exit he heard Abraxas growl, "And don't think you'll get off without punishment, boy. When I'm finished with my work here, I'll be up to see you."

Lucius' body literally quaked so hard his legs nearly gave way, yet he answered in a drawl remarkably similar to his father's, "I expected nothing less."

**XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO  
**

Lucius rolled from his stomach onto his side, wincing at the pain covering almost every inch of his backside. If only Severus were here, he could heal him, as he'd done so many times. For a youngster, he seemed astonishingly gifted in that department. Only he wouldn't be allowed to come, and Father certainly had no intention of mitigating the agony, meaning Lucius would have to give it a go himself. As much as he was able, he pointed his wand at spots on his back, buttocks, and legs as he mumbled incantations like those Severus used. Surprisingly, the pain receded significantly, though the welts and bruises from Abraxas' cane remained glaringly apparent. It didn't matter, no one would see; they never saw, not with the way Lucius kept his body covered in even the warmest weather.

He got up and wandered to his dresser, pulled open the top drawer, and removed a delicate rose constructed of red paper. Written on one of the petals was his name. He smiled.

"Narcissa," he whispered into the flower.

Instantly it opened, flattening and rearranging itself into an everyday sheet of parchment, inscribed with lovely, flowing script.

_Dear Lucius,_

_I'm having a birthday party when school is out. I'll let you know all the details as soon as it's planned. Please come, I won't have a moment of fun without you._

_ Hugs and kisses,_

_ Narcissa_

He'd promised her he'd come. Even if he hadn't promised, the idea of staying away from the sweetest, most beautiful girl he'd ever met was incomprehensible. And she'd sent _hugs_ and _kisses_! If he didn't go to her celebration, they might be the only hugs or kisses he'd ever get from her! Three days ago she'd owled him the particulars: the gala was to be held tonight. Either he obeyed his father or his heart, and sentiments ran strongly against his father at the moment.

"I'm coming, Narcissa," he breathed quietly. To the paper he whispered, "My beloved." It promptly folded itself back into a rose, which he stashed in the drawer.

Truth be told, he thought it relatively easy to steal away from the manor tonight, what with being grounded in his room. No one would expect to see him about. Although he hadn't yet learned to Apparate, all he'd have to do was dress appropriately for a party, sneak out the window, creep over to the treeline, and run through the woods. Piece of cake. No, it had rained recently, perhaps he should carry a sack with his good clothes to prevent them becoming muddied. He debated back and forth, in the end deciding on the bag, which he slung over his shoulder while floating down to the ground under a precarious levitation spell, his stomach fluttering more from excitement than fear.

By the time he'd reached the outskirts of Black Manor, he was panting and sweaty, and quite glad he'd chosen to bring fresh clothes. In a twinkling he'd changed, brushed and fastened back his hair, and kicked the bag under a bush where he could retrieve it later.

"I'm here," he sang softly, striding up the walk to meet his girl.

Narcissa threw open the door to greet her guest as she had all evening, hoping each one would be Lucius. Frankly, she'd begun to believe he wasn't coming after all. When her eyes lit upon his blond head, she broke into a euphoric smile.

"Lucius! You came!"

"I said I would." The gift he'd purchased yesterday, so carefully wrapped by a house elf, seemed in the light a bit worse for wear from the jostling in his pack. The corners had frayed, one of them split completely. "I'm sorry, it looks awful," he lamented, whipping out his wand to fix it.

"I don't care, Lucius, as long as you're here." She stepped in to give him a peck on the cheek, thrilling him. "Come in, join the party."

Many of Narcissa's friends from Hogwart's were here, he noticed, though no one he associated with himself. No matter, he hadn't come to see anyone but her. All evening his eyes rarely strayed from her, even when she was occupied with her hostess duties and socializing with whoever these people were. He was, by no accident, the last one to leave, which pleased the girl no end.

"Lucius, now that everyone's gone, why don't you come swing on the porch with me? I can't have a boy in my room," she explained.

Lucius, trying to act worldly, nodded his understanding. He'd never been in any girl's room except his sister's, though he preferred to let people think him a stud. The closest he'd even come to sex had been when he'd kissed a girl at school and his hand accidentally brushed her rear. She'd then made out to her friends that he'd groped her, keeping them at a distance from him.

Together Lucius and Narcissa proceeded to the porch. The cool night air felt refreshing after the stuffiness of the house. As they seated themselves, Lucius gently draped an arm around her, his heart thudding against the wall of his chest.

"Do you mind?" he asked simply.

"No," she replied, snuggling close. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Narcissa's mouth formed into a frownish pout. "I've been noticing all evening that mark on your cheek. What happened?"

A rush of bile filled his throat as his hand sought out the spot. It was tender, making it easy enough to find. Damn it, he'd forgotten! Father had smacked him for something or other a couple days ago. Not having any mirrors in his room—mandated by Abraxas, lest he become vain—he'd not known he had a bruise.

"Uh, I—I don't know," he lied, averting his gaze.

Not so easily fooled, she reached out to lightly caress the greenish mark. "My parents say Abraxas Malfoy is a strict disciplinarian. I believe he's cruel."

Torn between the ecstasy of her touch and the subject matter, Lucius cautiously replied, "He's my father. He does what he thinks is right."

"Would he think this is right?" Narcissa challenged, deliberately crushing her lips against his.

Lucius pulled back, startled and breathless. "I don't really care what he thinks." He leaned in, enveloping her in both arms, kissing her fervently over and over, ignoring the lingering pain in his back where her hands were so delightfully playing. Time stood still, an hour passing in the space of a moment.

Off to the side, a door was thrown open so hard it crashed against the wall, shedding light on their feet. "Narcissa, here you are! Come in here this minute!" a woman's voice scolded. She bent over to get a look at the boy gaping back at her. "And you, Mr. Malfoy, ought to be on your way home. My daughter is a proper young lady."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, jumping to attention. "She's going to be my wife."

Narcissa's and her mother's jaws dropped at the same time. Lucius could have kicked himself; what the hell had prompted him to blurt out something like that? Then he knew. He wanted her, now and forever. She _would_ be his wife one day.

"Good night, Mr. Malfoy," responded Mrs. Black coldly, obviously considering him a lying womanizer.

"Good night, Lucius," said Narcissa, furtively blowing him a kiss.

Lucius took Narcissa's hand, pressing his lips to its trembling warmth. "Good night, my love. I meant what I said, if you'll have me."

"Narcissa, in the house! Lucius, do I need to summon your father? I'm sure he'd be very interested in your proposal."

"Yes, I believe he would. Nevertheless, if I survive his parenting until I'm seventeen, I plan to leave his home and wed Narcissa." He bowed, turned on his heel, and stalked into the darkness.

**XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO  
**

Lucius hadn't bothered to change his clothing before returning home. If truth be told, he completely forgot the bag he'd stowed under the bush at the Black Manor. All the way home his feet scarcely touched the ground as he repeatedly replayed the night in his head, humming happily to himself. Another levitation spell brought him to his window, where he crawled inside and flopped onto the bed with a huge smile on his handsome face.

A light suddenly illuminated the place. His smile faded.

"So you finally dragged yourself home," Abraxas murmured, treading up to the bed. His lack of emotion made his words all the more chilling. "I had thought I grounded you."

Lucius sat up, wide eyed, barely breathing. "Yes, sir, but I promised."

"Narcissa?" he asked, knowing full well the answer.

"Yes, sir. I—I promised her I'd go. I couldn't lie."

"You couldn't lie," his father repeated as if the phrase held no meaning for him. "But you could disobey your father, sneak around like a thief in the night, disregard your order to study, and what else? Let me see." He glanced up at the ceiling, squinting and pursing his lips. "Oh, yes, I remember. You could propose marriage to the Black girl without my knowledge or permission."

Lucius swallowed hard. There was no way his father could know that unless Mrs. Black had paid a visit, likely an unpleasant visit filled with accusations and recriminations, which undoubtedly served to infuriate the elder Malfoy. If a time for saving himself had existed, it had passed by rapidly and incognito.

"You don't seem to have anything to say, son, though I sincerely understand why. How can you defend an untenable position? You know you're wrong."

"No." Had that come from his mouth? Apparently it had, for Abraxas looked as if someone had thrown ice water in his face. "I wasn't aware I needed permission to marry whomever I choose." Ignoring all his other transgressions, which he truly couldn't defend, Lucius marched on, "Narcissa is pureblood, you can't object to our union."

"Narcissa," clipped his father, advancing menacingly, "is engaged to a young wizard in Romania!"

The bottom dropped out of Lucius' stomach. He let out a tiny cry of dismay and would have crumbled if he hadn't been still sitting on the bed. "That can't be. She likes me, she…" His lips started to quiver.

"This is what you get for your willful defiance," Abraxas intoned. "Had you asked me or the Blacks, there would have been no confusion." He snapped his fingers, summoning his cane into his hand. "Regardless of your childish sentiments, I will not have an insubordinate son."

**XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO  
**

Lucius' summer passed in the loneliness of solitude and incessant studying, punctuated by an occasional cuff for insolence. He actually incurred less misery than he was accustomed to, as any other fight had been drained from him the night of Narcissa's party, not by the horrific beating which he admitted to deserving, but by the betrayal of his heart. He had not made a move to contact the girl the entire summer, nor received a single owl from her or anyone else.

He dreaded returning to Hogwart's, most especially to the Slytherin common room where sooner or later he'd cross paths with _her_. He hated her, or he wished he hated her because at least then he wouldn't feel guilty for hexing her and doing all manner of mischief against her. Brooding in a compartment of the Hogwart's train, he scarcely noticed when some boys came in and sat opposite him.

"So, Lucius, where've you been all summer?"

Lucius peered over at McNair. He'd never liked him, nor Crabbe or Goyle either, though he'd enjoyed their adulation as their superior. Right now he wished they'd all go away and leave him alone.

Crabbe insisted on pressing him. "Yeah, where you been?"

"Home studying," he answered curtly, turning to the window.

"I thought you had big designs on that Black girl," smirked Goyle.

The others laughed in a way that made the whole thing feel dirty. Lucius whirled around, eyes blazing, and the revelry stopped cold.

Suddenly understanding, McNair spoke up. "I can't believe she rejected you."

"She didn't," Lucius seethed through clenched teeth. "She's engaged."

No one spoke for several minutes, each pretending to be occupied with his own thoughts. However, having few original thoughts, this left Crabbe and Goyle staring vacantly at each other until McNair broke the silence.

"You could get rid of him. Then Narcissa would be free for you."

Lucius was about to scoff at such a ludicrous idea. How on Earth was he to rid Narcissa of this foreign wizard? And assuming he did, who's to say Narcissa would then fall all over herself to be with him? And why would he want the duplicitous witch anyway?

"I—we—know someone who could arrange it so it couldn't be connected to you," McNair continued. Slowly he pulled up his left sleeve to reveal the snake figured Dark Mark.

Stunned, Lucius gaped in both fascination and rising fear. Word of this dark wizard had been spreading, he was surely a force to be reckoned with. They'd even talked about joining his legion last term, purely sophomoric rhetoric. He had no clue these morons had any real intention of carrying it through. Now they wanted him to enlist in earnest. Was it worth his soul to throw in with the most evil wizard ever to walk the Earth? There was power to be had if the dark lord managed to overthrow society, but still…

"How—what's in it for me?" he asked at last.

"This fiancé of hers gets bumped, you step in. And who knows, the dark lord might have big plans for you."

Lucius shrugged and shook his head. "I'll have to think about it."

"Fine, you do that. Don't think too long or when the time comes he might decide he doesn't want you," McNair replied cryptically.

**XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO  
**

"What are you doing in here?" hissed Lucius to the girl standing awkwardly in the doorway. He hurriedly covered his post-shower body with a large towel. "You'll get us both in trouble!"

Narcissa picked her way across the clothing-strewn floor to Lucius, ignoring his demands she leave immediately. She'd come this far, she couldn't falter now. Besides, she'd caught a glimpse of his naked rear, and she liked it.

"Lucius, I need to talk to you. You've been avoiding me since school began, this is the only place I could think to look."

"I'm _trying_ to get dressed! Do you mind?"

"No, go right ahead." She blushed at the furious stare he threw her, then turned around to allow him some privacy. "I should have told you about Ivan, I'm sorry."

The boy yanked on his underwear and pants, feeling at once more secure. He continued to dress as he spoke. "Yes, you should have. If I were him, I'd want to know my betrothed was snogging behind my back."

"It's not that simple." She peeked over her shoulder, then spun to face him. "I've only met him once, and it wasn't my choice, our parents engaged us when we were little. I don't even like him!"

"Then break the engagement."

"I can't, we were forced to make an Unbreakable Vow. If I don't marry him, I'll die!" A hiccupped sob escaped her. "And he's a creep!"

In light of this revelation, everything seemed different to Lucius. He kicked his roommates' clothing out of his way to come to her and encase her in his arms, holding her tight while she wept.

"And he already cheats on me!" she wailed, which caused Lucius to glance warily toward the door. If someone came in to find him in this compromising position, he could be expelled. "He's twenty-two, you know. He has a bastard child by some Muggle!" She broke down again.

His mind whirling, Lucius squeezed her tight. What he had to do appeared clearer by the moment, with one glaring exception. Narcissa didn't want this Ivan asshole, but did she want _him_? "Narcissa, it'll be okay, trust me. We'll figure a way out."

"There is no way! It's an Unbreakable Vow!" Her body shuddered and trembled against him as she cried. "I thought it was okay—I could—live with it—but I think—I love you."

Any hesitancy vanished with those three words. Lucius pressed his lips to hers in a frenzy of desire, devouring her, not thinking anymore. He didn't need to. The decision had already been made.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Two**

"Don't act scared," McNair said for the third time in a hushed voice, lest any Muggles around them hear. Because they'd only begun learning to Apparate, and the Knight Bus was too risky for where they were going, they'd been reduced to riding in public transport.

Lucius had half a mind to chuck his shoe at the boy's head. "I'm not, I told you!"

"You should be," snapped the other. "He's the most powerful wizard in the world."

"I thought Albus Dumbledore was considered the best. He took out Grindelwald," Lucius retorted.

"If he's so great, how come he can't stop the dark lord?" sneered McNair.

Lacking any semblance of a reply, Lucius turned his head to look out the window. He'd never been in London proper, nor any large city. The closest he ever came was the train station for Hogwart's. It seemed fascinating and strange, all the traffic and people and large buildings, and were he not truly frightened of what was to come he could have allowed himself to enjoy it. This was his life, his whole life, being changed forever in a direction he didn't want to go. He could back out now, it wasn't too late…only if he did, Narcissa could never be his. How bad could it really be to serve this Voldemort?

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost. Next stop is ours, then we hoof it a couple blocks." McNair appeared genuinely anxious and excited to arrive.

He fairly dragged Lucius down the bus steps, his pace quickening the closer they approached. Lucius' heart hammered in his chest so hard he could barely catch his breath. With a shove from behind, Lucius hurtled through what he'd swear was a closed door adjacent to the street. He landed on one knee and rolled over inside a dark, filthy room smelling of dampness.

"McNair!" he bellowed, furious to have been the butt of a prank.

The youth stepped forward from the shadows. "The first time you come through has to be violent," he explained with a shrug. It was the way he'd come, it mattered not at all to him why this rule existed.

Lucius got to his feet intent on showing his comrade the reward for pushing him into a dank hole. Lifting his fist, he advanced rapidly and swung. And missed. McNair wasn't there! And suddenly neither was he. He blinked and found himself in what he'd judge to be a parlor, though not so well decorated or kept up. At least it was light and dry.

"We're here," said McNair from behind him.

There was no time to respond. A sharp 'crack' split the air and a man materialized before them. He looked to be somewhere around fifty, haughty bearing, pale…very pale, as though he'd not seen the sun in ages. A twist of his mouth denoting a smile made chills run up Lucius' spine.

"This is the one, McNair?"

"Yes, my lord," he murmured, falling to his knees. "He comes here of his own free will."

Voldemort now addressed the boy trying vainly to act brave. "You are Lucius Malfoy."

"Yes, sir."

"Why do you come to me?"

Lucius had every intention of spouting the line about wanting to serve the dark lord, he even thought he was saying it until the words 'for Narcissa' popped out.

Voldemort laughed, an eerie, high cackle that ended as abruptly as it had begun. "You can't lie to me, boy," he said, taking a step forward. His eyes locked with Lucius.

All at once the youth felt as if his brain was being violated, sifted through, and he was helpless to prevent it. It went on at length, then a gradual withdrawal leaving him confused and dazed.

"Unbreakable Vow, is it? Why don't you kill this Ivan yourself?" demanded Voldemort.

"He's too far away," Lucius mumbled. "I can't Apparate yet."

The older man's hand cupped his chin, tilting his face upward. He was surprised to find the touch warm.

"Don't. Lie. To. Me."

"I'm afraid to get caught!" he blurted, unable to stop the flowing confession. "I never killed anybody, I don't want to kill anybody! I just want Narcissa!"

Voldemort let go. "Now, was that so hard?"

Ashamed, Lucius dropped his head.

"When you serve Lord Voldemort, you are mine. You serve me completely, without question."

Still not fully cowed, Lucius managed to pipe up, "What do I get out of it?"

McNair sucked in a horrified breath from his crouch on the floor.

The response, however, seemed to please Voldemort. Here was a budding man with backbone, one who—as his servant—could accomplish much, could command those around him, keep an eye on them. With his wealth and family status, he would have no trouble reaching the highest levels of wizarding government. Best of all, he'd go to extraordinary lengths to get what he truly wanted. He could be useful, very useful indeed.

"My promise to eliminate your rival," said Voldemort. "By the end of the year, it will be accomplished."

Lucius nodded almost imperceptibly. A flick of the dark lord's wand drove him to his knees.

"Hold out your left arm."

He did as instructed. The wand touched his skin and a scream reverberated through the room. Only as he lay huddled on the floor clutching his arm did he realize the scream had come from himself.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Here—in here!" Lucius, holding Narcissa's hand, pulled her into the Divination classroom.

"We'll get caught!" she whispered, tugging free.

"No, we won't. Classes are over, no one ever comes in here unless they have to." He gave her that rakish smile that melted her heart. "Don't you want to be with me?"

"Yes," she admitted. Because of the engagement hanging over her head, she dared not be seen with Lucius in any other way than friendly or platonic. Even though her sisters had graduated and gone, any number of people might send word to her parents. It couldn't be risked. "Lucius, I hate to bring this up, but what are we going to do after I…I get married."

His countenance darkened. "The only one you're going to marry is me."

"But—"

"No! I told you, things will work out. They have to." His grey eyes pleaded for her to believe, and she so very much wanted to. "You have a year and a half until you finish school. A lot can happen. Please don't speak of it again."

It was only putting off the inevitable, but it was all she had. If worst came to worst and she had to wed Ivan, who was to say she had to live with him? She'd have to consummate the marriage for it to complete the vow, and then she could run away and live with Lucius, couldn't she? Although it would terribly shame her family like Andromeda had done with her filthy mudblood. And Lucius refused to hear of being her paramour.

She snuggled in close to him as if his proximity could ward off the future. "I love you, Lucius."

"I love you, Narcissa, more than you can know." He put his arms around her and squeezed, emitting a squeak when his sore forearm throbbed against her back.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Everything is perfect." Locked together, they moved over to the wall, slid down to their rumps, and spent a good half hour in pure snogging glee. Coming up for air, his eyes cast around the room, spying a crystal ball on a nearby table. "You want to play?" he grinned.

"Okay."

They moved over to gaze at the ball, which immediately filled with a cloudy mass.

"That's weird, it never did that for me before," she said. "I don't see anything, though."

Lucius wasn't listening. In the ball, so far away yet so close he could touch them, he saw two young men, both bundled in layers of fabric and furs. Footprints in the snow attested to the fact that only one had walked out here; the other had evidently Apparated. The tall one with long hair and a goatee pointed his wand at the other and uttered the Unforgivable Curse. The younger one fell back dead into the snow, eyes staring at the sky.

"Lucius, what do you see?"

Then it was gone. The ball was once more clear. "Uh, nothing," he said stiffly. "I thought I saw something, then it went away." He shoved away from the table, his stomach sickened. In all his Divination classes, he'd never seen anything in the orb. Why was he seeing it now? And why _this_?

"Lucius?"

"We should go. I'm not feeling well."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Christmas break was around the corner and everybody looked forward to it. Everybody except Lucius and Narcissa. Chances of them spending any time together at home were slim at best, making for a perfectly miserable final week as they each moped around at the idea. While Narcissa cried alone in her room, Lucius spent his time apart from her practicing Quidditch. Or more aptly, flying aimlessly lost in thought for hours on end, occasionally pretending to be interested in the game.

"Malfoy, what is it with you?" one of team complained. "You play like shit lately!"

Lucius summarily whacked him over the head with a beater's bat, sending him to the hospital and getting himself kicked off the team, along with an owl to his father explaining that if such a thing happened again, he'd get more than detention, he'd be expelled. So in short, one could argue Lucius was in no hurry to go home for a variety of reasons.

Nevertheless, the two lovebird parted ways off the train without so much as a peck on the cheek, appearances being paramount. Narcissa Disapparated alongside her mother, who cast a suspicious glance Lucius' way, while Abraxas merely grunted in acknowledgement before disappearing with his son. Upon arriving at Malfoy Manor, Abraxas spoke for the first time in his trademark drawl.

"Did you think they wouldn't notify me of your abominable behavior?"

Lucius shrugged. He honestly didn't care. Abraxas, on the other hand, did care. He slapped his son across the face.

"You are a Malfoy; you will comport yourself accordingly."

"Yes, father," he intoned.

"Do I need to ask why you're acting peculiar? So far you haven't once sassed me, which in itself is telling. Are you still pining for that Black girl after all this time?"

When Lucius made no answer, his father nodded knowingly. All summer, after sneaking over to the Black Manor, he'd brooded in his room. Seeing the girl in the flesh again must be devilishly hard for the boy. Abraxas could sympathize, he'd been a young man once. It didn't excuse his offenses, but it explained his quiet sulking.

"It's better you found out when you did, Lucius. You'll find someone else."

"I don't want someone else," he muttered back.

"You're very young, you don't know what you want. A pretty face is not so difficult to come by."

Because he dearly didn't want to discuss Narcissa with his father, and because it was pointless to do so, he let it drop. Let him say what he would, it didn't matter. He and Narcissa loved each other, Lord Voldemort had made a promise that would allow them to be together. Nothing else mattered. Speaking of which, the end of the year drew near. If Ivan was dead, why hadn't Narcissa been informed? Or had she, yet hadn't bothered to tell him? No, she wouldn't do that. She loved him. Was her family deliberately withholding it to keep her away from him? What if Voldemort _lied_?

A stroke of Abraxas' cane on his back brought him sharply back to reality. He winced, holding back an outcry.

"I_said_ to get upstairs for your punishment, son," his father uttered in a subtle shade of his usual intimidating manner. "Don't make me repeat it again."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Christmas came and went, a joyless time all around for Lucius. Even the visit of his sister was tainted by the presence of her half-blood husband, a talentless wizard if ever there was one. How could he celebrate a family gathering with that _person_ hanging around? And to top it off, the lout had gotten her pregnant, which meant by the time school was ended there'd be a replica of that half-breed squalling around!

No doubt he'd have holed up to pout in his room for the rest of vacation if news hadn't come on December 30 while they were at dinner. Narcissa Black's betrothed had been found murdered in the woods of Romania. The Unforgivable Curse, they said. No suspects.

Lucius barely managed to hold down his food. It had happened: Lord Voldemort delivered on his promise and now Lucius belonged to him. For the first time, Narcissa was not foremost in his mind. He'd seen the murder in the crystal ball, he'd _asked_ for this to happen! A man had died so _he_ could savor life!

He retched and vomited onto his plate.

"Lucius!" his father shouted.

Lucius pushed back his chair, unable to staunch the heaves strewing his stomach's contents onto the rug, down the hall, and into the bathroom. When at last nothing more would come, he washed his face, rinsed his mouth out, and stumbled upstairs to change. The house elves would clean up the mess.

His clothing clean and presentable, as it must always be, he sat on the edge of the bed trembling. This was real, there was no way out. Up to now it had seemed a dream; now it had become a nightmare. He'd got what he wished for and it was time to pay the piper.

Abraxas strode into the room, gazing with concern at the boy. "Lucius, are you alright? Did the food make you ill?"

"No, sir," he whispered.

"The news then. I'd think you'd be glad." He hadn't meant to sound callous.

Lucius looked up at his father, biting his lip to still the quivering. With one purposeful yank he exposed the Dark Mark on his forearm. Abraxas stared aghast. He knew what this symbol meant, everyone did!

"My God," he breathed. For a long moment nothing else would come. At last he shouted, "My God, Lucius, what have you done?"

His son bowed his head and began to sob.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Three**

"Lucius, you're different," Narcissa said quietly. Quietly of necessity, for they'd taken refuge in a broom closet to permit a few moments of peace. Since Ivan's death, people Narcissa scarcely knew approached her to offer condolences, it seemed eyes never left her. Getting caught playing tongue-twister with Lucius only a few weeks after the fact definitely qualified as crass and gauche.

"Maybe," he agreed. "You're free, sort of. In a month or two we can pretend to start a courtship; I'm happy about it. At the same time, I feel guil—awful for Ivan." _You have no idea how awful._

Narcissa's head bobbed along in understanding, even at the mention of her betrothed, who—apparently—was missed by all but her. Yes, it was terrible what happened, yet he was virtually a stranger to her, she held not a bit of affection for him. Aside from being a raging jerk, he'd obviously made enemies. Wasn't it enough she'd had to go to Romania for his funeral, had to face his family and feign grief? She wished everyone would leave her alone.

She kissed Lucius on the lips and reluctantly started to go. He held her by the wrist, pulling her back to his embrace.

"I hate this sneaking around. I want everybody to know you're mine." He nuzzled her neck as he murmured, "I need you, Cissy."

_Cissy?_ Since when did Lucius use the childish nickname her sisters had devised? "I need you, too. Come on, we'll be late to class."

"Let's stay here," he whispered huskily. "No one will know." One hand slid down to cup her buttocks, the other began to unfasten her robe.

"Stop it!" she demanded, slapping him away and standing up, more than a bit upset and put off. First the Cissy remark, now groping? "I don't know what games you've played with other girls, but I'm not a whore, Mr. Malfoy! I'll thank you to remember that." With a toss of her head she backed out, slamming the door in his face. She whirled around into her cousin Sirius, whose smug smile made her want to clout him, but whose presence sent her heart into her mouth.

"Cissy, who've you got in there?" he asked, edging closer.

She cut him off and shoved him in the chest. "Back off and mind your own business. Aren't you babies supposed to be in class?"

Sirius flushed at the sadly not unusual treatment. "I'm only a couple years younger than you. And I think you've got a boy in there. I heard you say 'remember that'. Remember what, Cissy? That you're practically a grieving widow who shouldn't be shagging every boy she comes across?" He gave a lopsided smile and laughed at her discomfort. He was definitely skipping class, this was too good to miss! Eventually the bloke in the closet would have to come out, and he had every intention of being here when he did. He folded his arms, leaning against the wall.

"For your information, that caterpillar fuzz under your nose doesn't make you grown up. It's about time you learn to respect your elders." Narcissa's wand was snatched from her grasp in a heartbeat. "Give me my wand, Sirius!"

"Why? You'll hex me like your creepy sister Bella does. I'm tired of ending up as animals." He flipped the wand down the corridor, where it bounced and skidded right up to the staircase, then plopped onto the top step. From there it rolled down clicking and clacking in the silent hall. "You better hope that staircase doesn't shift, cousin."

Narcissa instinctively started to bolt after the wand, stopping just in time to race Sirius to the door of the closet. She grabbed his shaggy hair, throwing him backward. In retribution he attacked her head on, ramming his shoulder into her gut. She buckled over and dropped to her knees gasping for air.

Sirius hadn't time to head back; the closet door crashed open against the wall. A furious Lucius Malfoy emerged holding his wand at ready, aimed right at Sirius' head. He advanced rapidly until the wand was jammed into Sirius' cheek.

"Don't you ever touch her again, you disgusting excuse for a pureblood! Do you understand me?" he shrieked through clenched teeth.

Eyes bulging, Sirius nodded.

"Give me your wand."

Sirius forked it over. "You can't do this."

"On the contrary, Black, I can. I'm a prefect. Now get your skinny ass over there and bring back Narcissa's wand! If you run off, I'll break yours."

There was no reason to believe Malfoy wouldn't follow through with this threat and any number of additional penalties he might think up, so Sirius shot him one last dirty look before loping down the hall.

Lucius immediately dropped beside Narcissa, cradling her gently. "Did he hurt you? I'm sorry, I should've come out. Please talk to me."

"I'm—okay," she managed. "It's not the first time we've fought." With his help she got to her feet. "I know him. He'll tell on us, Lucius. My family will be so outraged." Her lips trembled, tears brimming in her eyes.

Unable to dispute her claim, he merely held her close. "They'll come around, honey. It's alright. After a while they'll forget." He patted her reassuringly, not mentioning how angry his own father would be. And he wouldn't easily forget.

After divulging the secret of his Dark Mark, he'd felt sure Abraxas would kill him on the spot. He hadn't, obviously. In fact, he'd shown actual, real fear and concern for his son, had tried to comfort him with the notion that since he was still only a boy, perhaps Voldemort wouldn't call upon him. He'd used extremely poor judgment, he'd made a horrible, ghastly mistake, that's all. In the interest of family honor he'd advised Lucius to conceal the Mark at all costs and try to forget it existed. How could he forget? Every day the despicable image taunted him. After all this, to have his father find out the true _reason_ he got the Mark, and that he'd been slinking around behind everyone's backs to court an engaged woman… it was too much to expect the man to ignore it, let alone condone it.

Sirius Black returned, panting, and handed him the wand, which he passed to Narcissa. "Fifty points from Griffindor," he clipped. He considered threatening the little snot nose to keep his mouth shut, deciding against it. Then the brat would tattle for that, too. Instead he raised Sirius' wand between his fingers. "You'll want this back, I imagine."

"Yes," Sirius answered sullenly, reaching for it.

In an instant Lucius snapped it in half and pitched it across the hall. "Be my guest." Taking Narcissa by the arm, he led her off without a backward glance.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"He broke my wand!" Sirius repeated, stomping around the boys' darkened quarters in a huff. "I have to get him back!"

Remus shoved his hair back off his face as he sat up in his bed. "Blast it, Sirius, would you shut up? Some of us need sleep. Besides, can you say you didn't ask for it?"

The other boy made a show of mimicking him, then demanded in a close approximation of Lucius, "Give me your wand." In a high pitched, whiny imitation of himself he sniveled, "Here you go, Slytherin git. Might you be kind enough to snap it in half for me?" He rolled his eyes and snorted, casting himself onto his bed with James laughing in the background.

"You were beating up Narcissa, moron! Ought he ignore it?"

"She's my cousin, I can do whatever I want."

James leaned over toward Sirius, paying no heed to Remus. "You want to get him? Tell his dad he's taking advantage of Narcissa in her sorrow. And in _public_."

"If he's anything like Lucius, he'd probably be proud of him."

James snickered and shook his disheveled head. "If he's anything like Lucius, appearances mean everything. He can't have his son making the Malfoy family look bad, can he?"

Sirius' eyes lit up and he cackled with glee. "True, true. And from what my parents say, he's not exactly lenient. Lucius might get his ass beat and be a huge disappointment at the same time! Thanks, James. I think I'll send an owl out in the morning." His vengeance plotted, he lay back smiling to compose the letter in his head.

After a short space, Remus' voice pierced the dark. "I don't think you should, Sirius. You're only going to make enemies."

"What do you think he is now, Remus?"

"He's not an idiot, he knows you can get him in big trouble. If you choose not to, maybe he'd appreciate it—and so would your cousin. What's her family going to say?"

Sirius blew out a puff of breath. "Who really cares? She shouldn't be shagging around with him anyway."

"You have no idea what they were doing," Remus argued. "You always assume the worst in people. Try being nice once in a while."

"Hmmm. Too late for that," replied Sirius. "Night, boys. I got mail to write in the morning."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Despite the day's commotion, detention for missing classes, and gnawing dread of what tomorrow might bring, Lucius and Narcissa chanced another encounter late in the evening when all students were to be in bed. Slipping into the Slytherin common room, they nestled together on a sofa. Here there was no animosity or fear, only their heartbeats against each other. Narcissa lifted her head from his chest to gaze into his eyes.

_How handsome he is!_ "Thank you for defending me today."

"My duty and my pleasure," he responded, the corners of his mouth tipping upward.

"People call you cold and mean," she began.

"Don't forget arrogant, priggish, and—forgive my language—stick up the ass," he offered, grinning.

"Lucius, I'm not finished. And you're none of those things."

He shrugged. "I don't care what they say or think. I know who and what I am, I don't need their validation. Why would I want to slouch about like those bunch of baboons, defiling myself by consorting with mudbloods—"

"Stop! Let me finish. I wanted to say you're like a fierce dragon to everyone else, but you're my sweet, cuddly dragon." She planted a quick kiss on his lips. "So there."

Lucius laughed out loud, then quickly glanced around, ears straining for sounds of movement. As prefect, no one might challenge him being out of bed; being with a girl in the middle of the night was another story. "I don't think anyone's ever called me sweet or cuddly."

"But you are," she said in earnest. "When we have a baby, it'll be our little dragon."

_Little dragon. My son…or daughter._ He'd never spent time thinking about children, certainly not wishing for them. They were what happened when you married, the house elves took care of them. The thought of having a baby with Narcissa felt immensely right.

"When might that be?" The hungry look in his eyes left nothing to the imagination. "Shall we get started now?" His hand dropped to her breast.

"Lucius!" she scolded, smacking the offending appendage. "What is with you all of a sudden? First in the broom closet, now this."

"I love you, I need you. Now that you're really mine, I thought…" He withdrew his hand.

Both flattered and alarmed, Narcissa tried to wriggle away, unable to do so with his arms pressing around her. Lucius was the only boy she'd ever kissed or even wanted to. She didn't like being pushed to do something she felt certain she'd regret. "Like I said before, whatever you did with other girls, I'm not like that."

Taken aback, Lucius stared for a moment. What he did with other girls? Rumors circulated, of course, but he hadn't thought she took them seriously. "I haven't done anything with anyone, Narcissa. I told you that."

She sincerely wanted to believe him. "I want to be a virgin when we get married."

"Well, I don't!" he pouted, though he squeezed her so tight she let out a squeal. "I know guys who've been with loads of girls, and they're not even planning to marry."

"Like who?"

He hadn't expected that. To be honest, he couldn't name any. He knew for a fact that the only ones claiming it were liars, yet certainly some of Hogwart's students did more than kiss! "There's bound to be some," he grumbled.

"You're so impatient. Am I not worth waiting for?"

Grudgingly he nodded. At sixteen, almost seventeen, he felt the same hormonal lunacy as any other boy his age, although he channeled it solely toward Narcissa. Over the past few years he'd kissed a handful of girls—no doubt giving rise to his reputation as a womanizer—but none of those girls qualified as one he'd ask for sex. He was a Malfoy, a gentleman not a satyr, regardless of his evident appeal to the fairer gender. How often growing up had he heard that self-control must be assiduously exercised at all times? Why then did he want so badly to cast off his self-control whenever Narcissa was close by?

None of the other young ladies excited or delighted him the way Narcissa did, excited him to the point he felt he might explode. Time spent together was blissful agony, time spent apart merely agony. Given the choice, he preferred the bliss.

Acquiescing, he said tartly, "Have it your way. Your loss."

"I think I'll survive," she replied dryly.

"Just keep in mind that I'm to be your first and only." As if suddenly remembering something, he said, "We can't cheat once we're married. Did you know that?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Why would I want to?"

"I'm just saying. At every Malfoy wedding the couple have to swear an Unbreakable Vow of fidelity. I thought you should know."

Smiling evilly, she retorted, "A husband who can't cheat—how exquisite! I'm surprised all the girls don't demand the vow."

"So am I," he said frankly. "It's getting late, honey. We need to go to bed before the Head of House catches us." _Or before I ravish you, my lovely one_, he snickered to himself.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Studying at his desk between classes, as he often did and was frequently taunted for doing, Lucius didn't acknowledge Crabbe as he lumbered in. Talking to him (or one of the other oafs) only encouraged a relationship where he desired none. He flipped the page, waiting for him to leave.

"Your father's here, Lucius."

Lucius' stomach tightened into a knot. So the little prick had tattled as he suspected he would, though he'd thought Father might send a howler to castigate him, saving the real punishment until Easter break. He'd not dreamed the man would take time from his job to come here, and the fact that he had boded worse and worse. "In the Headmaster's office, I presume?"

"No. He's in the common room."

All pretense of indifference dropped, Lucius leapt up, letting his book close without marking the page. His voice wavered slightly. "Tell him to come in. And the rest of you stay out!"

Abraxas sauntered in, straight backed and proper, face untainted by any expression of emotion. With his cane he pushed the door shut, then cast a bubble of silence charm around the room.

"So, Lucius, it isn't enough to lie to me, to become a Death Eater, to infuriate me with your insolence and sloth. You must now humiliate the Malfoy name with your public displays of copulation!" The cane slammed down on the desk beside his son, making him jump.

"That brat is lying, we didn't have sex, I swear!"

"You will tell me everything—EVERYTHING—or so help me you won't be walking out of this room." He held up a small vial, shoving it into Lucius' hand. "Drink this first. There'll be no more lies."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Sirius got up off the grass to point across the yard at a girl headed their way. From the length of her stride and purposeful gait, it was evident she was angry. "There she is, fellas. Didn't I tell you she doesn't know when to quit?" He strolled over to her with a cocky grin. "Cissy, how's the family?"

"You insufferable, horrid little boy!" she screeched, so loud people halfway across the yard turned to look. "How could you ruin my life like that?"

"I'd hardly call it ruined, cousin. Maimed, perhaps. Tattered, maybe." He mockingly placed a consoling hand on her shoulder, which she shook off in disgust.

"I recall Lucius warning you to keep your slimy paws off me, toad."

"Ah, yes, _Lucius_." He spun to James and Remus, winking and laughing, then whirled back to her. "I hear Mr. Malfoy paid him a visit right here at school, and he wasn't very happy. How is Lucius, Cissy?"

In answer her foot shot out, smashing powerfully into his crotch. A feeble, strangled cry escaped as he fell to his knees, doubling over.

"He'll be fine, Sirius. How about you?"

For good measure she kicked him again, this time in the rump, pushing him over in the grass, then huffed off in the direction of the school.


	4. Chapter 4

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Four

McNair hovered at the foot of Lucius' bed, making no sound. He'd been waiting for over an hour for the youth to awaken, he'd wait indefinitely if necessary, his master's order being quite explicit. He didn't particularly look forward to speaking to Lucius at the moment, not with the news he had to offer. The young bloke, Severus, had healed him up and fed him a sleeping potion, that wasn't the problem. There was talk. Slytherin students, lamentably, loved to gossip as much as anyone else, meaning the visit by Mr. Malfoy would be well-circulated by now. If Lucius had any illusions of pretending none of this had happened, he was in for a rude shock.

It was a pity, McNair mused. Of all the Slytherin students he knew, Lucius was _not_ the most maltreated by a long shot, violent discipline being a hallmark of their House. Custom around this House dictated that when someone turned up brutalized, the rest affected indifference, they blatantly ignored the situation unless to render aid. It was a system that had worked for a very long time. Lucius would be mortified when he woke up to find his father's visit public knowledge even among the rest of Hogwart's students. He'd be far more displeased when McNair told him the dark lord wished to see him. McNair pulled up a chair and sat down to wait.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"You don't have to go with me," Lucius said to McNair. In truth, it more closely resembled a growl. Had he been a wild animal, he likely would have attacked the other boy and chewed his throat out. This was all McNair's fault for suggesting he become a Death Eater, for taking him to meet the dark lord! If he'd minded his own business, Lucius would be a normal teenager with normal problems!

"My fault?' McNair sneered, then guffawed at the shock on Lucius' face. "Lord Voldemort teaches his followers more than how to kill. You're way too easy to read."

"You read my mind?" demanded Lucius, not really believing it. Yes, the dark lord had done so, but that had felt like an invasion of his mind and soul. This time he felt nothing except vulnerable and weak.

McNair gave a cocky toss of his head. "You practically threw it at me, Lucius. I can't get inside your head like he can. Yet."

"If I catch you trying, I'll stomp _your_ head in."

McNair rolled his eyes. "And, Lucius, you have nobody to blame but yourself. You got what you asked for, and if I was you I'd learn to guard my thoughts, especially when they're mutinous." He walked past, shoving into Lucius on the way out.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The instant Voldemort Apparated into the odd little parlor, McNair fell to his knees. Alarmed when Lucius failed to do the same, he tugged on the boy's belt, dragging the resistant Lucius down with him. If he hadn't been afraid to do so at the sight of the dark wizard, Lucius would have jumped back up. A Malfoy kneeling like a serf before another? Unheard of!

"You object to showing proper deference, young Malfoy?" cooed Voldemort in a sugary voice dripping with undertones.

"No, sir." He bowed his head to shield his eyes.

"Call me 'master'."

Lucius' lips refused to cooperate. He opened his mouth, desperately trying to placate the terrifying man in front of him. It was only a word, a word didn't have to mean anything. But it did! It meant a lifetime of servitude to a cruel, evil wizard, it meant leaving behind the chance to ever live a respectable life. It meant being a powerless slave. He couldn't do it.

"_Crucio_." Voldemort almost whispered the curse, yet it struck Lucius full force.

Screams poured from him, more powerful and numerous than he thought possible from one human being. Compared to the fire burning every pore of his body while he writhed on the floor, his father's canings seemed feeble, almost friendly. If he could have choked out a sentence, he would have begged for it to stop, yet all he could do was scream.

Voldemort lifted his wand. Lucius lay prostrate, panting and crying while feeling returned to his tingling limbs. _It's a word, Lucius_, he shouted at himself. _Say it. Just say it!_

"I believe I gave you an order," said Voldemort pleasantly, smiling, his demeanor completely out of touch with his deeds.

"I—why?" Lucius choked.

"_Crucio_," Voldemort murmured again. As Lucius rolled about shrieking in agony, he bent over next to his ear. "Because you will obey me, you will grovel at my feet and thank me for the opportunity to do so. And you will acknowledge me as your lord and master."

The torture continued at length with McNair kneeling across the room, watching in horror, certain his friend's demise was imminent. At the same time, he was torn. Lucius agreed to follow Lord Voldemort. If he was punished for refusing, didn't he deserve it? Then again, if the dark lord killed Lucius, he'd have a hard time explaining to everyone what had occurred.

"My lord," he ventured, barely audible through the howls. "Master, give him another chance, please."

Voldemort shifted his gaze to the youth. "You expect mercy from me, McNair?" He sounded surprised.

"No, my lord! It's just that you said Lucius could serve you well as an adult."

"I did, didn't I?" Once more he lifted the wand, though this time Lucius collapsed completely, making no movement, no cries. Only the faint rising and falling of his chest showed he still lived. Voldemort poked him in the side with his foot. "Who am I, Lucius?"

Eyes closed, throat raw, Lucius whispered, "Master. My master."

"I have a task for you, Lucius." With a flick of his wand Voldemort propped him up on his knees. Lucius opened his eyes weakly, barely able to focus and entirely unable to ask what this task might entail. Fortunately, Voldemort proffered the information. "Bring me a new follower."

"Who, my lord?" he croaked.

"I'll leave that up to you. Contact me when you're ready to present your offering." His voice hardened. "And I wouldn't delay too long. Your master's patience has limits."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Lucius?" Narcissa waved a hand in front of his face, smiling. "You seem so preoccupied lately, ever since your—since Sirius told on us."

Her smile dimmed at the recollection of the fallout. Her mother had sent a howler lasting nearly thirty minutes, rebuking her viciously in front of the whole cafeteria. She'd been thoroughly humiliated, nor had Lucius been spared. Mr. Malfoy, in his fury, had made a special trip to Hogwart's to beat his son for his underhanded, embarrassing courtship, which made Narcissa feel at fault for being the object of Lucius' affection. Although Lucius refused to discuss it, there was more to it. He'd left the grounds later that day, only to return after she'd already gone to bed. She couldn't imagine what his father might have done or said, but she read an underlying fear attending Lucius ever since then. Two weeks later, nothing had changed.

Lucius acknowledged his girl by cuddling up close and squeezing her, his only solace in the midst of the nightmare that used to be his life. Preoccupied? You could say that, if preoccupied covered even the tip of his assignment to lead another down the path to hell as Lord Voldemort's lackey! Some good had come from that day, he thought to himself. Now that their relationship was no longer clandestine, they were free to behave like teenagers in love, which was what he planned to do. There under a stately oak in broad daylight, they held each other in silence, a disquieting silence punctuated by the stares of passing students. To their credit, none of them commented openly on the relationship, save one fool.

"Cissy," came a mocking sing-song from a fair distance away.

Narcissa didn't bother to look, she knew that voice.

"Didn't your mother just finish chewing you out for being with him?"

"Get bent, pervert!" she bellowed, most unladylike.

Lucius gently pushed her away from him. "I'll deal with him, honey." He stood up and smoothed his robes.

"No, you'll get in trouble again." Her hand latched onto his arm, her fingernails digging in painfully as he pulled to free himself. "Lucius, please!"

He bent over to kiss her forehead. "The fierce dragon must assert his dominance, Narcissa, unless he wants to be a doormat for the rest of his life." It struck him like a blow to the chest that he _was_ a doormat, for Voldemort, anyway. He would not give that power to another ever again.

When Sirius saw Lucius approaching, he scampered back to the safety of his gang. Lucius calmly continued, eyeing each one in turn. James Potter: Gryffindor seeker, smug, swaggering prig. Regis or Rebus or some such name: decent enough, never seemed to join in his friends' cruel games, shouldn't be hanging out with this motley crew. Peter Pelican, was it?: sniveling, backbiting rodent who probably couldn't get any other friends. What a bunch of losers!

He stalked right up to where the four stood gawking at him. In a level voice he said, "Sirius, I'd like to speak with you. Alone."

"You can talk in front of us," Potter said.

Peter and Sirius nodded and mumbled agreement. Only Remus looked as if he meant to leave. With the way the others teased him in the past, he hated to be the only one breaking with the group.

Lucius turned his head slowly until his eyes burned into the younger boy's. "I don't recall addressing you, _Potter_. However, since the coward is afraid to face me alone, I'll say my piece." To Sirius he continued, "Next year, after Narcissa and I graduate, we shall marry. Lamentably, this will make you family. I suggest you decide whether you prefer a cordial relationship or a venomous one. It makes no difference to me."

"If you don't care, why'd you come over here?"

"For Narcissa's sake."

"I think you're full of it," Sirius retorted, looking to his friends for support. Their laughter grated on Lucius. "You just don't want us picking on you, right?"

The Slytherin's back straightened a bit more, if possible. Haughtily he replied, "You've been warned." He spun on his heel to storm off. As he retreated back to Narcissa, their cackling felt like nails to his skull. They were asking for it, he'd make sure they got it. "Time to play hardball with the big boys, snotty brats," he muttered.

"What did you say to them?" asked Narcissa.

"I offered a truce, he threw it in my face," said Lucius.

She gave him a sad, consoling smile. "Sirius and I never really got along. He doesn't act like a Black, he acts more…"

"Like a Potter?" Lucius finished for her, wrinkling his nose.

Nodding, she said, "Yes, I suppose so."

Lucius took his place in the grass beside her, aware of the eyes observing him. Let them look, let them get a good look, he thought as he deliberately crushed her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers. She melted against him, returning his ardor. In an instant he forgot the prying eyes, the jeering laughter. All that existed, all that mattered was _her_.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Excitement brimmed over in the Slytherin boys' dormitory, the sixth and seventh years, anyway. Tonight there would be, for the first time in over forty years, a hazing! For several days they'd met covertly, organizing their strategy under the tutelage of their prefect, who advised them quite strongly to keep this to themselves. As Hogwart's no longer condoned the fine game, the Head of House would be required to suppress or report any such activities, and all participants were subject to severe penalties. In a nutshell, they were bucking the rules and defying authority, which of course encouraged them all the more.

Come midnight, wands at ready, hoods up, the young men filed out in absolute silence, giddy with anticipation. When they reached Gryffindor House, the spy in charge of learning the password gained them entry, from where they broke into small groups according to plan and stole quietly into several of the boys' rooms. Notably they bypassed any room housing students of their own age and skill level.

On cue they broke into a raucous riot. Books and papers flew and scattered about, students were covered with blankets and pummeled by invisible hands, charmed pixies attacked noses and ears, bed curtains swirled around rooms like dementors, terrorizing the younger boys, who screamed and shrieked as they alternately tried to beat away the creatures and find their wands.

Before the older students had awakened fully enough to investigate and come to the children's rescue, the Slytherins ran en masse out the way they'd come. Arriving back to their own common room, they threw off their robes, eyes shining, laughing and chattering as they shared their exploits and merriment. A few minutes later, slinking in unnoticed, Lucius, McNair, and two others joined them, grim smiles of satisfaction across their faces.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"I truly am sorry, Mr. Malfoy, that our paths seem to cross only under unpleasant circumstances. I assure you, this incident has been fully examined, and I regret to tell you that your son appears to be the ringleader. As prefect, he is duty bound to _prevent_ such chaos, making this scene doubly insidious."

"Professor Dumbledore, I apologize for his antics, but isn't one month of suspension excessive? He'll miss classes all the way up until Easter holiday."

Dumbledore bit back a reply that some of Mr. Malfoy's punishments might be deemed excessive as well. Before his father arrived, Lucius had pleaded with the Headmaster, had argued it was only harmless fun, a prank that got carried away. He'd nearly burst into tears as he recounted what his father would do to him. Dumbledore had seen many frightened students in his time, this had been no pretense.

"Mr. Malfoy, over twenty students were assaulted, some of them injured. One lad was found next to the woods badly beaten and hanging by one leg from a rope tied to a tree branch. He nearly lost his foot. This is not simply boys on a jaunt, it was calculated ruthlessness. Parents are demanding justice, and after Lucius' incident with the beater's bat, he's lucky not to be expelled."

"I understand, but Lucius isn't the only guilty boy. Why is he being singled out? You say the others fingered him as the ringleader, yet they participated. According to my son, he didn't lay a hand on anyone!" Abraxas' cool drawl had given way to seething resentment. "You're making him the scapegoat!"

From outside Dumbledore's office, Lucius overheard the argument, more than a little surprised to hear his father actually defending him. Not to say he thought it would in any way mitigate the thrashing he was in for, but it felt good nonetheless. He gave a wry smile; at least that little jackal Sirius had got his comeuppance. Too bad they'd saved him before his foot fell off. The Headmaster mumbled something else, then silence.

The door flew open. Abraxas stormed out, calling to his son as he passed, "Come, Lucius!" Like a puppy he trailed after the man, listening to him mutter angrily, "That Dumbledore is the worst thing to ever happen to Hogwart's!"

Lucius thought it prudent to keep his mouth shut. The less said, the less to be turned against him. As far as his books and personal items were concerned, they'd be sent tomorrow, no doubt. As for Narcissa… the thought of a month without her broke his heart. He'd see her over the break, Father had agreed to allow the courtship, but still, a whole month!

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," Abraxas growled as they padded across the yard to the outskirts of Hogwart's, from where they could Disapparate. "You're a constant trial."

Lucius could have let it go, he knew he ought to let it go, but _damn it_ he was upset, too. "You'd probably be happy if I let the dark lord kill me."

Abraxas whirled on him with an incredulous expression, then delivered a backhand that almost knocked him down. "Don't you ever talk like that again! You're a monumental pain in the ass, but you're my son and I love you!"

Lucius stood staring at the man, rubbing a hand over his throbbing cheek. The set of his father's face, the fear simmering behind his bravado… he meant it. He really meant it. Abraxas had grown up in the Malfoy tradition. Malfoy men weren't demonstrative with their children, they didn't coddle them, at times they were harsh with them…but they loved them. Until this moment he hadn't quite realized that.

"Father, I'm sorry to shame you again," he said softly.

"Why did you do this? What possessed you to organize this fiasco?" Not for a moment did he doubt the veracity of this particular accusation. "You're intelligent, Lucius, you had to know the truth would out and you'd be punished."

Lucius gave a weak shrug. "I figured if they found out, I'd only get detention and you'd never know."

"You lied to Dumbledore when you said you didn't lay a hand on any of the students, didn't you?"

"No, sir. I admit I used my _wand_, only he never asked about that."

Abraxas chuckled under his breath. How like his son to stand on a technicality. "You haven't explained _why_. This was more than a lark."

"Revenge," he admitted, ducking his head. "I only wanted to get Sirius for squealing to you about Narcissa. If I beat him up alone, I'd be caught immediately; the way it happened, no one can prove he was the objective all along."

"Very clever."

"Apparently not clever enough," answered Lucius, grimacing. "All my so-called friends turned on me."

His father took him by the arm and they Disapparated, then Apparated in front of Malfoy Manor. "Consider it one of life's lessons. Given the opportunity, most people will cut your throat if it gains something for them. Watch your back."

Lucius nodded, tucking away this morsel in his brain along with the rest of his advice offered over the years. It felt good to be having a real conversation with his father, sort of comforting. To his amazement, he wasn't afraid anymore, even in the face of what he'd done.

"Father, since we've discussed my transgression, and I'm already being punished by Professor Dumbledore, it's not really necessary to whip me, too, is it?"

Abraxas raised his eyebrows in surprised amusement at the audacity. "Oh, yes. It is."

"Just checking."


	5. Chapter 5

Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Five

_Dear Lucius,_

_I just heard of your suspension. I can't believe how unfair Professor Dumbledore is to do this to you! Please tell me you're alright, I won't be able to sleep thinking you're hurt._

_Awaiting your word with love, Narcissa_

Lucius smiled as he re-read the note, planted a kiss on her name, and tucked it into his shirt next to his heart. The mandatory Malfoy method of discipline having gone into effect earlier, he shifted position on his chair to ease the pain in his rump. He thanked heaven he wasn't made to endure the full treatment, for his father had—astonishingly, and for the first time—healed his son of the wounds inflicted on his back shortly after delivering them. At Lucius' dumbfounded query, Abraxas had gruffly stated that he'd be suffering enough without Narcissa, and if all his beatings to date hadn't taught him anything, he was a hopeless cause.

He plucked a quill from his desk, twirling it absently in his fingers while he stared into space. Mother died when he was so young he didn't remember her. In the typical self-centered fashion of adolescence, it hadn't occurred to him to think Father must miss her terribly. If his refusal to remarry or take down the portraits of his wife was any indication, Abraxas, had never stopped loving her. Perhaps he understood more of Lucius' heart than he let on. Lucius dipped the quill into the pot of ink nestled in a hole on the desktop.

_My Dearest Narcissa,_

_Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Father and I are on better terms than I can remember for years. I miss you frightfully already and look forward to the holiday when you come home. Until then, I'll keep busy studying._

_All my love, Lucius_

_P.S. If Sirius gives you trouble, let me know._

He tied the note to the patiently waiting owl. "Narcissa," he ordered, and the bird flapped off out the window, with him watching until it was out of sight. It was going to be a long, lonely month.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Excuse me."

Narcissa turned around at the soft voice. A boy three or four years younger, probably in Sirius' class, stood looking up at her through greasy strands of thick black hair. "Yes?"

"I'm Severus, um, you might—Lucius knows me," he stammered, obviously unaccustomed either to speaking to girls or to speaking in general. He seemed unable to hold her gaze.

"Did you need something?"

"No, Miss Black," he shook his head, making Narcissa shudder to think it might splatter oil on her. "I—I make potions."

Then it hit her. Lucius mentioned once there was a young boy who excelled at potions; he'd more than once treated Lucius. "Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?"

"No!" he moaned with a frustrated stamp of his foot. "Does _Lucius_ need anything? I can send it."

"Oh! Oh, Severus, that's so kind! Lucius wrote me, he said he's fine, so maybe his dad doesn't blame him for this…incident."

She couldn't tell for certain, but he almost looked disappointed. From what Lucius said, he was a good kid—albeit only a half-blood—who came from a rough background. He wouldn't be _hoping_ he was needed, would he? Now that she thought of it, she'd seen him around school, always alone. Maybe he _did_ need to be needed.

"If Lucius asks, I'll tell you right away, okay?"

The boy nodded and darted off down the corridor.

"Strange little boy," she said to herself. To be on the safe side, she decided to write Lucius again, mentioning Severus' offer. If he took her up on it, she'd know for sure what was going on.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

This was as good a time as Lucius was likely to get if he intended to carry out the mission set for him by the dark lord. Father was at work, he was left to his own devices for hours at a time. Facing facts, there was no way he could refuse Voldemort's bidding, save to kill himself before the evil wizard got the chance. Since he didn't consider suicide a viable option, that left obedience. A chill ran down his spine.

_You will obey me, you will grovel at my feet and thank me for the opportunity to do so._

His heart raced in his chest. The pain. Never had he imagined such agony, and never did he wish to feel it again. He quickened his pace, silently cursing Professor Dumbledore for suspending him when he needed to be at school learning to Apparate! The house he stopped at was a far cry from Malfoy Manor or Black Manor, small and dumpy by comparison. He rang the bell, automatically straightening and smoothing his robes.

A house elf answered. "Yes, master?"

"Is Bellatrix in?" he said abruptly. House elves gave him the creeps, perhaps because his own elf, Dobby, had a bizarre habit of abusing himself in most inventive ways when he wasn't underfoot. He was weird even for an elf. Besides that, he'd always had the annoying habit of observing Lucius' actions to report back to Abraxas, which hardly endeared the creature to the boy. Pure and simple, he had grown to despise Dobby over the years, a sentiment he supposed the elf shared. Nonetheless, the putrid thing was bound to serve his family, and he had no desire to perform household tasks himself, so dwelling on its shortcomings served no purpose.

The house elf scuttled off, leaving him standing in the open doorway feeling rather foolish. He didn't know whether to come in or stay out where he'd been so ungraciously left. A few minutes of embarrassed waiting passed before Narcissa's sister wandered up to the door.

"What do you want, blondie?" she sneered.

Honestly, he wasn't sure she knew how to smile. Her manners, as everything else about her, were diametrically opposed to Narcissa's. Where his love was sweet and gracious, Bella was cruel and crude; even her black mop of hair contrasted with Narcissa's whitish blond perfection. As usual she was dressed like a Muggle high school hooker, or what he imagined one to look like.

"I need to talk to you."

"I don't want to hear you whining about your love life with Cissy," she spat. "Even I had enough control to wait until I got married."

"_Excuse_ me," he responded, stepping in so their noses were only inches apart. "Narcissa and I have done nothing remotely resembling improper!"

"Really?" She cackled in his face. "So that little tryst in the closet wasn't you?"

Lucius shoved down the anger. There was no winning an argument with Bella, and now wasn't the time. "I've been talking with some seventh years who knew you at Hogwart's. They tell me you used to be very interested in…" Why couldn't he just say it? "Voldemort," he choked out.

"What's it to you?"

"Do you mind if I come in? This isn't the type of conversation I'd like others to overhear."

She waved him in and slammed the door. "So talk."

"They say you wanted to meet him, maybe join him. You're a supporter, everybody knows it." He studied her face, waiting.

Bellatrix frowned, making her look—well, evil. The menacing glare habitually in her eyes flung itself over Lucius. "I would've met him if I could. I'm not a coward like so many who claim to be supporters! You have to be invited into his inner circle by a Death Eater, only I wouldn't expect a pansy like you to know anything about that." She gave a wide yawn. "You bore me."

Lucius said nothing, though he carefully observed her reaction as he drew back his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. Bella sucked in an astounded breath and dropped to her knees, very delicately tracing the outline of the Mark with her finger. The utter rapture as she bent over it bordered on adoration.

"Are you interested, Bella?"

Her head whipped up, teeth bared. "You'll take me?"

"Yes."

Bella got up, reluctantly letting go of his arm. "When?"

"As soon as I make contact, I'll let you know. Very soon."

She smiled, then threw her head back and started to laugh wildly, doubling over at some private joke. "Alright, Lucius. I'll be waiting."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius looked up from his _Dark Arts Through the Ages_ study guide. There'd been no sound, only a feeling of being watched. His fist curled around a mug of spiced pumpkin juice, ready to hurl it at that pest of a house elf. He whirled, mug in upraised hand, and barely halted before cracking his father's head open.

Abraxas shot him a glower. "What do you think you're doing?"

Lucius' arm lowered slowly and he gave a weak grin. "I thought you were Dobby."

"People frequently make that mistake," he answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Ignoring the disturbing fact that his son apparently made a habit of chucking things at the elf, he went on, "Why is Bellatrix Lestrange downstairs in my parlor?"

A stab of fear radiated through his body. He swallowed hard. "I don't know."

"Do_not_ lie to me, Lucius," his father commanded. "I've had all I'll take of it. I'm tired of these games, I'm tired of thinking I can't trust my own son, and I'll be damned if you're going to take up with your girlfriend's sister! Her married sister!"

Lucius gaped in disgust as it struck him what the man was suggesting. He and Bellatrix? It made his stomach churn. "Father, I'd sooner pluck out my eyes and ram a rod through my brain than cavort with_her_."

"Then explain why she's here. I'm listening."

There was only one reason Lucius could fathom that she'd be here, and it was as far removed from sexual escapades as purebloods were from Muggles. Truth be told, she shouldn't be here, she was to wait for him to come to her. He should have known Bellatrix wouldn't have the restraint to abide like she was advised.

"I asked you to explain." Abraxas' clipped tone had hardened several degrees. "Do we have to use Veritaserum again? Or would you prefer I beat it out of you?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I didn't want you involved," Lucius murmured, sagging in his chair.

"Sit up straight. Involved in what?"

There was no going back. Father knew he was a Death Eater, what difference did it really make if he learned everything else? He was sick of the deception, sick of hiding and sneaking. "I'm going to take her to meet the dark wizard."

Silence. Absolute, stupefied silence. For a few moments Lucius wasn't sure he'd actually said it out loud. The expression on Abraxas' face was the telling factor, morphing from irritation to shock to dismay. Yep, he'd said it aloud, alright.

"Why would you do that, Lucius?" was all he could manage.

"Voldemort called me," he answered in a small voice, still studying his father, who if possible exuded even more horror. "He tortured me with the Cruciatus and ordered me to bring him another follower. If I don't, he'll kill me."

Abraxas seemed unable to respond. He staggered over to lean against the desk, his legs shaking. Lucius jumped up to grab hold of him and lowered him into the chair.

"Father, I'm so sorry," he pleaded. "I wouldn't have picked Bella except the guys at school said she loves Vol—the dark lord. When I talked to her, I saw it was true. She desperately wants to meet him, and if I don't take _somebody_…" He sucked in a shuddering breath, dangerously close to breaking down from anxiety. "Please don't hate me."

His father's arm reached up, cupping a hand behind his neck and pulling him down into a fierce embrace. He buried his face in Lucius' hair, his silent tears dripping into the blond silk.

"I don't hate you," he whispered. "I don't hate you."


	6. Chapter 6

Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Six

[Author's note to boxter and anyone else who may be wondering: It's a fair question. In the last chapter Abraxas definitely cried for a good reason. He'd hoped Voldemort would leave Lucius alone and forget about him. Instead, Lucius tells him he was tortured (any parent's nightmare concerning their children). He sees his son being pulled deeper and deeper into Voldemort's grasp, and they're both helpless to prevent it. As a father, he feels he should protect his son, but he can't. He's afraid Lucius is going to end up dead.

Lucius Apparated behind a dumpster on an alongside with Bellatrix, vaguely resenting the power she held over him. Once he got back to school he planned to make Apparating a top priority. Bellatrix took off at a trot down the alley, her spiky heels clicking wildly, leaving Lucius and a couple of bums staring after her.

"Bella," he hissed at her. "Bella!"

She ignored him, of course, and he was forced to resort to chasing her down. Sensible footwear has its uses. He snagged her arm, bringing her to a halt and whirling her around, barely ducking in time to avoid a hard left hook. His arm encircled her waist and he lifted her off the ground, promptly tripped, and careened into the side of a brick building where they both collapsed in a heap.

"Hey!" a man's voice shouted. "Leave her alone!"

Lucius shook his head to clear it and peered at a young man striding into the alley. "Who? _Her_?" He pointed at the woman struggling to her feet, wrinkling his nose as if he'd ever assault someone of her caliber.

"If she don't wanna go with you, bugger off!" demanded the intruder.

Wand gripped in his hand, ready to yank from his pocket, Lucius thought better of it. There were witnesses. "Thank you for your presumptive advice," he drawled coldly.

Bellatrix eyed the man up and down, then spat at him. "Filthy Muggle! Mind your own business!"

Lucius had to forcibly restrain her from drawing her wand. "Bella, we need to go. Now."

"That's what I was trying to do!" she screeched, stalking away haughtily in the same direction she'd first begun.

In a frustrated outburst, unwilling to tackle her again, he bellowed, "You're going the _wrong way_!"

She froze mid-stride, spun on her heel, and marched back to him. "Fine, smartass, you lead the way."

Bellatrix was no more amused when, upon reaching the entry, Lucius unceremoniously shoved her through without warning. She tumbled backward, landing on her rump; when he walked in after her, she sent a curse sailing past his ear, missing only because she'd not taken careful aim in her hurry to hex the little twerp. He leaped aside, trying to hide behind a tiny old trunk amid the rubble of the dank room.

"Bella, stop it! That's the way you have to come in the first time."

"Yeah, right," she sneered, narrowing her eyes to slits.

Lucius drew his wand in the event he might need to ward off another Bella-special. How in the world had Narcissa survived childhood with this nutcase in the same house?

"Where is he, Lucius?" she shouted. "If you tricked me, I'll—"

She had no chance to finish. Instantly the two were in Voldemort's parlor room where Bellatrix seemed to have forgotten all about Lucius. Eyes aglow, she turned circles in the room, gawking unabashedly about. Moments later Voldemort Apparated with a 'crack'.

Remembering his manners, Lucius dropped to his knees. "My lord, I've brought you a follower, as you ordered."

Not to be outdone, Bellatrix threw herself prostrate on the floor. "Lord Voldemort!" The word was almost a sigh of pure contentment.

The dark wizard scanned the two. As his eyes roamed over Lucius, the boy ducked his head in an attempt to appear humble as well as to guard against any mind probes. Bellatirx lifted her head to peek at the imposing figure who was every bit as awesome as she'd imagined. When his eyes met hers, her breath quickened and she found herself reaching out to him. Voldemort permitted himself a tiny smile. The wayward boy had brought him a willing servant indeed, a soul he sensed in tune with his own.

"Come forward, Bellatrix," he said.

Bella crawled, almost slithered up to the hem of his robe, which she kissed with a fervor he'd not witnessed in any of his other followers. It was a nice touch, he'd have to make it mandatory for the rest, he decided.

"Why do you come to me?"

"To serve you, my lord, in every way. To uphold pureblood wizardry, to rid the world of Muggles and mudbloods."

Voldemort directed his comment at Lucius, who was busy wishing she would shut up with her excessive sucking up. "This, young Malfoy, is the reply of a devoted supporter. Hardly the response I got from you, is it?"

Lucius flushed, suddenly afraid he'd allowed his mind to be penetrated again. "Forgive me, master. I didn't know any better at the time. Of course it's my ambition to rid our world of these blemishes against pureblood."

"Bellatrix, stretch out your arm."

She hastily did so and he touched it with his wand. Immediately the room was filled with a tremendous shriek of pain, calming down to a whimper while she rocked back and forth on the floor cradling her arm like a baby, every so often gazing at it and kissing the Mark tenderly.

"Thank you, master," she breathed. "I will be your most loyal servant."

"We shall see. Lucius, you're in for a treat," Voldemort said in a tone filling the youth with a dreadful unease that this would be anything _but_ a treat. He sincerely prayed it wasn't more torture.

With a swish of his wand the three of them were no longer in the parlor. Where they were, Lucius couldn't say, only that it reminded him of the ancient dungeon under Malfoy Manor—all except the man bound hand and foot and strapped by an invisible force to one of the walls. Lucius leapt backward, startled.

"I saved him for you," the dark wizard remarked, nonchalantly waving a hand in the man's direction. "An auror captured by my Death Eaters."

Bellatrix, still nursing her throbbing arm, sauntered up close to get a good look. "Traitor to wizard blood," she declared in disgust. The man looked at her, wild fear in his eyes, yet said nothing.

Voldemort let his hand go slack, pointing his wand lazily at the auror. "He, and those like him, are the reason things stand the way they do. They encourage the mudbloods to overrun our world, they prevent true wizards from defending their rights, their way of life. And so they must die like the scum they befriend."

It was then Lucius understood why the auror hadn't spoken: he'd been bewitched with a charm that wouldn't let him open his mouth. His moaned and his eyes begged them to let him go, a request Lucius hadn't the ability to grant. He despised Muggles and mudbloods as much as the next pureblood, but it hardly seemed necessary or ethical to kill them, when forcing them to stay in their own pathetic, inferior world would surely be torment enough. Couldn't people like this auror be sentenced to live among the apes they loved so much?

"Lucius, would you like to do the honors?" asked Voldemort. It wasn't really a question.

"My lord?"

"The Cruciatus, Malfoy. It's only fitting he suffers first, is it not?"

"Yes, my lord," he answered automatically. The _Cruciatus_? Having been the recipient of said curse, he found it difficult to conceive of using it on a man he didn't even know, who'd done nothing to him personally.

"Do it," ordered Voldemort.

"Master, I've never—I don't know how." His heart began to pound furiously.

The dark wizard's thin lips curled upward ever so lightly. "Then I shall remind you. _Crucio_."

Lucius crashed to the floor, a writhing ball of wailing agony. _I remember _ he tried to scream. All that came out was a single tortured syllable. "Aaaaiii!"

Voldemort watched him thrashing about with an intensity bespeaking more than idle curiosity. His eyes brightened, his own breath came shallow and rapid, his fingers twitched with something akin to blissful quivering. While he reveled in the excruciation, Bellatrix's eyes fixed on him, caressing him from afar. How she longed to touch him! She scarcely paid heed to Lucius at all, save to wish _she_ were the one savoring the moment.

All at once Voldemort raised the wand. To the sobbing boy at his feet he said, "You disappoint me, Lucius. It's not wise to make a habit of disappointing me."

"My lord, let me," Bellatrix begged, motioning at the auror with her wand. "Let me crush anyone who opposes you."

Voldemort gave a slight nod. Bella pointed at the man and repeated the word she'd heard her master use. _Crucio._ The auror's body started only to vibrate, rather unlike the distress she'd seen with Lucius, then he relaxed. She tried again with similar results, then looked over to Voldemort quizzically.

"Master, why doesn't it work?"

"Unforgivable Curses are the darkest of the Dark Arts, Bellatrix. They, like all spells, require practice. Unlike the rest, they also require hatred, a deep need and desire to do harm." He took the few steps over to her and, to her immense joy, took her hand in his, aiming the wand at the auror. "Concentrate on this half-blood's sins, focus all your abhorrence, and when the curse touches him, inhale his misery, roll it through your mind, breathe it as if your own life depended on it. Go."

"_Crucio_," she barked once more. The auror stiffened as it hit him, and his body started to leap uncontrollably. Her face broke into a tremendous smile of glee. She drew in a deep breath as if his sufferings could be drawn into her lungs, then let it out with an electrified shout of laughter.

Voldemort, using his wand, tipped hers up gently, breaking the spell. At her crestfallen appearance, he explained, "You've done very well, Bellatrix, very well. However, young Lucius hasn't had a turn." A flip of his wand brought Lucius unsteadily to his feet. "Perhaps you'd like to try now."

Lucius removed his wand from his pocket, his eyes furtively searching for a place to run. There was nowhere to go, no help for him. He pointed at the auror, took a shallow breath, and said, "_Crucio_." There was not so much as a muscle spasm. "_Crucio_." Nothing. "I'm trying, master," he implored. He shook the wand in agitation. "_Crucio!_"

"Venom, Lucius," said Voldemort, drawing near to him, murmuring in his ear. "You detest mudbloods, don't you? This one wants to allow mudbloods to take what is rightfully yours."

Panting in frustrated fear, Lucius barely heard him. Hate, was it? The one he detested at the moment was dear Voldemort, the one really ruining his life.

"Your girl whose affections brought you to my service—Narcissa, is it?" Voldemort continued in his sickly sweet tone.

_How dare he mention Narcissa's name!_

"I wonder how she would fare under the Cruciatus," oozed the dark wizard, walking in a slow circle around him. Lucius jerked his head in the man's direction, causing Voldemort to laugh in a hideous, mocking cackle. "Perform the curse, Malfoy, or we may find out."

With all the rage against the dark lord burning inside him, Lucius pointed again. "_CRUCIO_!" The auror's body slammed flat against the wall and his legs began to curl. _I hate you! I despise you! I loathe you!_ he screamed in his mind, making the auror convulse horribly. At the sight of it, he yanked his wand down, shame replacing fury. The man slowly unfurled.

"Much better, Lucius. Learn these lessons well: disobedience brings punishment; to inflict pain preserves you and your loved ones from pain; obedience brings reward. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master."

Voldemort swirled his wand around Lucius' body. Instantly the lingering agony of the Cruciatus disappeared. In its place he experienced a euphoria unlike anything he'd ever felt or imagined. His head felt light, almost dizzy. He felt as though he were weightless, riding without a broom, utterly free, incredibly elated and content. He'd seen people at his father's parties drunk and giddy; he could only imagine this felt tenfold better. He flopped to his knees, not aware of the hard stones underneath him, then tipped over onto his side smiling stupidly, so wrapped up in his ecstasy he barely took notice when Voldemort performed the killing curse on the auror.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Narcissa missed Lucius. Everywhere she looked, she expected to see him striding toward her with his regal bearing, smiling that cute little smile his detractors referred to as a smirk. What did they know, they were a bunch of lowbred, cultureless freaks!

"Speak of the devil," she muttered. Headed down the hallway right toward her were Sirius and one of his brain-damaged friends. She attempted to dodge away before they caught sight of her, getting only as far as partially behind a column.

"Why're you hiding, Cissy?" Sirius taunted. "Got another boy you're snogging while what's-his-face is gone?'

"Why don't you go kill yourself?" she snapped back, stepping out into the open, hands on hips. Glancing down at his feet she said, "Looks like the cur's paw is all healed up."

"I'm not a dog! Stop calling me that!" he huffed.

"Stop acting like one."

"Come on, Sirius," said James, tugging at his arm. "Leave the snooty witch to her snakey friends."

"At least I hold loyalty to my own," she retorted. "I'm not panting after a mudblood."

James' eyes flashed. "You'd better watch it, Narcissa."

Narcissa made a show of pouting and patting him on the head as she talked to him like he was a four-year-old. "Or what, little boy? You'll sick your werewolf friend on me?" She burst into laughter at their consternation. "Sirius isn't the only one in the family who likes to slink around and find out things. Maybe _you're_ the ones who better watch your step."

She whirled and flounced off, ignoring their hateful glares on her back. She couldn't care less if they hung around with werewolves and mudbloods, so long as they kept the filth away from her. It was nauseating, though, and embarrassing to have a cousin so out of touch with his pureblood heritage. If he didn't look so much like his brother Regulus, she'd swear he had to be adopted. Then again, who'd want to adopt _him_? She shuddered and rolled her eyes as she hurried to class.


	7. Chapter 7

Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Seven

"Father, I wish you wouldn't do this."

"Do what? Celebrate my son's coming of age?" asked Abraxas.

Lucius scowled, turning his face away and pretending to study the voluminous decorations gracing their enormous ballroom. "You know what I mean. I don't want a party."

"It doesn't matter what you want," said the man in a bluntly. "Our friends and acquaintances invite us to their functions, we must reciprocate. The invitations were sent long ago, everything is planned."

"It's not even a party for me," he sulked, bordering on whining. "It's_your_ friends and _your_ acquaintances—"

"Who one day may be needed in some fashion," Abraxas interrupted. "You'd better wise up now and start making the proper connections. When you take on the Malfoy mantle in the business world, you have to be prepared."

Lucius sat down on top of one of the small tables surrounding the dance floor. He'd been to plenty of Father's soirees in the past, always finding them tediously dry. His role up to now had been to smile politely at the guests, make small talk in which he worked in his talents and strengths, and to stay out of the way the rest of the time. He doubted this party would be much different.

All at once he was being roughly shoved off the table, slightly twisting his ankle when he landed. Without thinking he remarked, "Bloody hell!"

"Excuse me?" drawled Abraxas, his gaze piercing the boy with grey eyes identical to his son's. "Malfoys do not speak like common guttersnipes."

"I'm sorry," Lucius mumbled hastily. "I hurt my ankle."

"Learn your place. Did I bring you up to sit on tables and spout obscenities like a Muggle or a Weasley?"

"No, sir," he answered, crouching down to massage the limb. "Can I at least invite some of my friends from school?"

"Miss Black will be attending with her family. I believe you also know boys from the Avery and Goyle families, probably a few others as well. Anyone of any consequence will be here."

It would be pointless to argue he didn't even like that hulking idiot Goyle, and barely knew Avery. This was his father's final word. "Please tell me you're not expecting me to make a spectacle of myself by dancing that ridiculous waltz alone."

Abraxas grinned, making him look years younger. "You won't be alone, your betrothed will be with you. And after all those years of ballroom dancing lessons, I hardly think you'll make a fool of yourself."

Lucius grimaced again. "I can't dance on this ankle."

A single wave and tap of his father's wand healed the sprain. "You're fortunate I excelled at Healing Arts in school. Any more complaints?"

There were bound to be bushels of them if he took the time to sit down and think about it, though it wouldn't matter. Like everything else, it seemed, he had no control over any of it. "No, sir."

"Then go study. Easter holiday is nearly over, in a few days you'll be returning to class. It wouldn't do to fall behind."

Remembering the last time he'd failed to achieve the expected grades, Lucius hustled out and dashed up the stairs. Of age or not, Father's cane felt decidedly unpleasant on his backside.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lord Voldemort stared out the lone window facing the street. He could easily have Apparated to anywhere in the world if he cared for a beautiful view. He did not. He preferred to watch the Muggles going about their wretched lives, dreaming of the day he'd control not only the wizarding world, but the Muggles' as well. With their lack of magical ability, they'd be easy to overthrow, unlike these damned stubborn wizards who insisted on fighting him instead of embracing the truth he offered them. With only a handful of Death Eaters, things were moving more slowly than he'd like. Among the purebloods he had a great many supporters, yet a supporter too cowardly to accept—nay, _beg for_ his Mark couldn't be fully trusted or counted on.

Which brought him to Lucius Malfoy. Powerful family, proud pureblood with a natural, underdeveloped cruel streak that tended to the softer side—light Muggle torture, perhaps, if he could get past his aversion to inflicting suffering on the inferior. _Muggle torture_, Voldemort fumed. That's what they called it, as if it were anything more than harmless fun. For the most part it was no more than bullying, magical teasing. The disgusting creatures had their memories wiped with no harm done.

He'd forced young Malfoy into using the Cruciatus, and been somewhat taken aback by the potency behind it when Lucius had been properly motivated. The boy evidently had been brought up to suppress the underlying ferocity of his nature, something that needed to be remedied. Voldemort had already sent out orders to his Death Eaters that they were to bring him, at regular intervals, Muggles for Lucius to practice on in order to wear down his embedded notions of decency, to accustom him to indiscriminate displays of superior power. One day, with any luck, he might even come to enjoy it like those Death Eaters who tortured and killed for fun. They, however, were more likely to get caught and lead aurors back to Voldemort himself, a glaring drawback.

Voldemort shook his head and walked away from the window. He didn't really envision the Malfoy boy as one of his hitmen, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. To refrain from murder unless ordered to it or backed into a corner let a Death Eater navigate society more readily, and with the clout of the Malfoy name at his disposal he was infinitely more useful than some of the more violently inclined, whether he ever learned to kill or not.

Bellatrix Lestrange, on the other hand… there was a woman after his own heart. Besides being incredibly beautiful, she shared his mind. He didn't need Legilimency to tell him how devoted she was or to what lengths she would go for him. More than all the other followers put together, he looked forward with a peculiar longing to teaching her the Dark Arts. If he asked her to, he had not a whisper of a doubt that she, husband notwithstanding, would revel in showing _him_ a few things.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

There were well over a hundred seemingly happy guests milling around Malfoy Manor; the party was going well, better than Lucius had thought it would. Because he was the honoree, people actually noticed him instead of treating him like a child. As instructed, he'd greeted each guest with a small bow and a handshake, mingled among his father's friends, endeavored to remember names and positions for future reference. He'd fulfilled the duty part; now he was intent on enjoying himself with Narcissa. The two crept off in search of a quiet place to spend time alone, finally settling in a corner of the parlor across the hall from the ballroom where most of the guests were imbibing and having a high time.

Even though Lucius had been permitted to visit the girl frequently over the holiday, every minute apart felt like years. He made up for lost time in a frenzy of bear hugs and kisses all over her face and neck while she giggled at his playfulness. In return, she stroked his soft hair—carefully so as not to loosen it from its band—and kissed his face repeatedly, slowly lowering her head to lick the hollow of his neck. He moaned with rapture.

"Master Lucius," a high, squeaky voice came from across the room.

Lucius lifted his head to glower at Dobby. "Stop following me around, you despicable creature!"

Dobby cringed against the doorframe. "Master Lucius, the mother of Miss Black orders Dobby to find Miss Black."

Narcissa's ears perked up. "What does she want?"

"Dobby isn't knowing, Miss Black."

"I'd better go see, Lucius. She warned me not to go off with you." She smiled at him and caressed his dejected face. "We made a lot of waves already, we don't want unwarranted talk, do we?"

Lucius shrugged. He really didn't care if they made up lies about him, although he didn't wish to besmirch Narcissa's reputation. "Go on, then. I'll be in soon. I just want to be away from all the fuss."

The house elf shot out before he had a chance to shout at it or throw something at it, which was just as well, he supposed. Narcissa might accuse him of being unduly harsh to the obnoxious beast. She gave him one more peck on the lips and disappeared behind the elf. Lucius propped his feet on the coffee table and leaned back, closing his eyes. From afar he heard the bustle and laughter of his party going on perfectly fine without him.

"Hey, wake up," said a boy, walking in unbidden.

Lucius cracked open one eye. "What, Avery?"

"I saw Narcissa leaving," he teased. "Didn't get any, huh?"

This time Lucius sat up straight, balling his fist. "You want to get some of this, keep it up."

"I'm joking, geez. Want some?" He held out a bottle of firewhiskey already half empty. "I swiped it off one of the tables."

"You're not supposed to be drinking," said Lucius, taking the bottle from him and swallowing several gulps. It burned all the way down and sat boiling in his stomach.

"I'm only a year younger than you, and it looks like you've had plenty of practice." He swilled a bit himself.

Lucius merely grinned, despite the gnawing in his belly. He actually had not dared drink firewhiskey at home before, though on occasion at a friend's house he'd sneaked a swallow or two.

Avery glanced behind him, then turned to the other boy. "My dad told me you're a Death Eater," he said quietly. "What's it like? When I get older, I'm joining, too."

_What's it like? What kind of a stupid question was that?_ "Why don't you ask your dad? He's been one a lot longer than I have."

"He said Lord Voldemort made you do the Cruciatus. Is that true?" His wide, eager eyes practically panted after Lucius in his delight of the subject.

"Yes," answered Lucius abruptly.

"You don't look too happy about it. You should be glad you're able to fight for our side," Avery said, his enthrallment rapidly diminishing.

_Our side?_ Lucius thought. "It's not fun, Avery, it's cruel."

"You'll get hardened to it, that's what the older ones say."

"I don't _want_ to get hardened to torturing people… or _killing_ people."

Avery curled his lip and let out a gruff snicker. "I doubt you'll have to worry about _that_! I don't think you have it in you to perform the killing curse."

Lucius advised him to do an unspeakable act of self-abuse.

Sneering, Avery snatched the bottle to his lips, chugging far more than a teenaged boy could likely handle. By now he was unsteady on his feet. "And to think I used to look up to you. You're pitiful."

In a heartbeat Lucius sprang over the coffee table, throwing himself headlong on Avery, pinning him to the ground with a loud 'Huh!' as the wind was knocked from the younger lad. He jammed his wand into the frightened boy's chest, his own face coldly furious.

"Don't be so sure, Avery. Given the proper incentive, I wouldn't hesitate to blast you into oblivion!"

A moment later he was being lifted up by unseen means and dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Abraxas stood in the doorway, wand in hand, surveying the scene. He took in the firewhiskey bottle laying on the floor, its contents now soaked into the rug, and the wand still clutched in his son's hand.

In his controlled drawl he remarked, "Lucius, if you and your guest are finished roughhousing, it's time for your waltz."

Avery staggered to his feet, cast a terrified glance at Lucius, and stumbled out past Abraxas. Lucius stood up, straightened his robes, put his wand in his pocket, and smoothed his hair back. Without a word he started for the ballroom, head held high. His father grabbed his arm, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

"We'll discuss this later."

"He started it. I—"

"I said, _later_."

Lucius entered the ballroom with Abraxas amid the cheers and applause of the assemblage. Abraxas held up his hand for silence.

"I wish to thank you all for coming to share in the celebration of my son, the man of the hour, Lucius Malfoy!"

More cheers as Lucius beamed broadly for the crowd the way he'd practiced numerous times in preparation for this moment. He strolled across the floor to where Narcissa stood waiting, her eyes shining their adoration for him. He bowed low and offered her his hand, smiling genuinely at the sight of her.

"Shall we?"

She took his hand and accompanied him to the middle of the floor. The music began and he whisked her effortlessly about, his thorough lessons guaranteeing he didn't need to think, the steps came as naturally as breathing.

Narcissa leaned in closer to tease, "Having fun, love?"

"Just wait, your turn is coming," he answered, barely moving his lips for the plastered-on smile.

"Only one thing, Lucius—I'll be dancing with you then, too."

"Lucky you," he chuckled.

"Lucky me," she sighed, wishing they were alone so she could rest her head on his chest.

A few more minutes of swirls and turns, culminating in a final dip and the waltz was over. Lucius, bending down over her, whispered, "Dancing with you is _way_ more fun than with my dance instructor."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

By the time the last of the guests had gone, it was rather late. Lucius, being in no mood for a lecture—or worse—slinked up to his room in hopes his father had forgotten the earlier incident. No such luck. He'd only had time to remove his outer robe when Abraxas barged in.

"Did I not tell you we were to have a chat, son?"

"Yes, sir," Lucius admitted. "I hoped it could wait until tomorrow."

Abraxas snorted. He knew the boy well enough to know he'd hoped to postpone it completely. "You were drinking, you and that Avery boy."

There was no delicate way to weasel around that one. Father had undoubtedly smelled it on him. "Yes, sir, but not a lot. I mean,_he_ was drunk, but I—"

"Enough. What concerns me much more is the fact that I came upon you with your wand pressed into his chest. Would you care to explain?"

Why did he always do that, ask questions like that? Of course Lucius didn't want to explain! He wanted to pretend it had never happened, he wanted his father to leave him alone, and he wanted to go to sleep!

"He was goading me, making fun of me."

"How many time must I tell you that Malfoys do not respond to the juvenile taunts of their inferiors?" demanded Abraxas vexedly.

"Eighty-six," Lucius answered, right before his father's hand slapped hard across his mouth. He winced, putting his fingers to his lips and drawing them away spotted with blood. Well, he asked!

"You and your smart mouth," the man growled. "You can't even get through one evening, a very important evening, without a fight or tantrum. Next week you'll be seventeen. It's time you grow up."

Since making another clever rejoinder seemed unwise, Lucius merely drew a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his lips. If he'd dared, he would have asked his father to heal the wound he'd inflicted. He didn't dare. He'd already been caught drinking firewhiskey, fighting, and mouthing off, more than sufficient infractions for one day without sounding demanding on top of it.

"May I go to bed now, Father?"

There was a long, nerve-racking pause while Abraxas considered the question. Lately it seemed he had to beat the boy every time he turned around, and frankly he was tired of it. Was Lucius deliberately provoking him in a childish display for attention? Unlikely, since the boy took care to try to cover up his violations most of the time. What had gotten into him? Narcissa? The—he hesitated to even think the phrase—dark lord?

"Go to bed. I'll decide what to do with you in the morning."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Good morning, Father." Lucius took his place at the breakfast table. As always, he was immaculately groomed before leaving his room, though he wondered if it had been a waste of time today. His lips, puffy and sore, bore testament to the previous evenings shenanigans, and served as a visible reminder that this wasn't over yet.

"Son." Abraxas took note of the swollen mouth whose corner had begun to bruise. Most unattractive. "You apparently are going through a difficult time, which after pondering for hours last night I believe is due to your association with this dark wizard. I've decided to send you to America."

Lucius almost dislocated his neck, he jerked it so quickly. "What?"

"It's a big place, this Voldemort won't be able to find you, you'll be safe. When Narcissa learns to Apparate, she can visit you, and of course your sister and I will visit as well."

"No," Lucius answered, vehemently shaking his head. "He'd find me, and if he couldn't he'd kill you or Aphrodite or Narcissa. I won't go."

"Don't be pigheaded! Your only option is to do what he says. What kind of a life is that?"

"The one I chose."

"Through stupidity!"

Lucius nodded in acknowledgement. "That—and love. I can't undo it, Father. All I can do is try to keep my soul until Voldemort is defeated." He shook his head sadly with a rush of trepidation. "If there _is_ anyone who can defeat him."


	8. Chapter 8

Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Eight

A long hike and a steep climb brought Narcissa up to the aviary, a place she habitually avoided unless she required an owl. Bird droppings covered every inch of the floor as well as the great window openings all around the room, and the noise of the squawking flock made her want to shriek along with them. On the plus side, Lucius wouldn't think to look for her here. She pulled up, startled at the sight of a small figure crouched inside against the wall, dark head huddled down on his knees.

"Hello?"

The boy lifted his head, looking relieved. "Hello, Miss Black."

Narcissa hurried over to him and squatted down, not quite close enough to accidentally touch him. "Severus, what are you doing here?"

He shrugged.

"It's cold out here, you're shivering."

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not. You're coming back to the school." She took him by the arm to tug him up, his resistance making it much more difficult than she'd anticipated. She managed to pull him to a half-stand.

"I wanna stay here!" he pleaded, yanking back so hard he broke free and tumbled against the wall, where he lost his footing and pitched headlong onto the floor. He knelt up, his robes smeared with bird dung. Looking down, it seemed as if he would burst out crying.

"Severus, I'm sorry," she gushed. "Stand up, please." She whipped out her wand. "_Scourgify._"

Severus glanced down at his now clean robes, then up to Narcissa. "Thank you," he said, so softly she barely heard him.

"Why are you hiding here? And don't tell me you're not!"

He shrugged again, then said, "So the Marauders don't find me."

_Marauders?_ Narcissa hadn't heard of any ghosts called that, and certainly the castle wasn't besieged by pillagers. "Who?"

"It's what they call themselves. They like to pick on me."

"Why don't you tell the Head of House or a professor?"

"It would only make it worse. It's their word against mine, and there are four of them," he said resignedly. "It's easier to hide."

"Well, it isn't right."

Severus didn't respond. A lot of what happened in his life wasn't right, but it was what it was. He'd accepted that a long time ago.

"Who are they?" Narcissa asked.

The boy looked up at her as if she were joking. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. You have as much right to the castle as they do!"

"You wouldn't think so if you knew one of them was your cousin," he accused quietly, backing away a step.

"Sirius? He's picking on you?" She didn't need to see the boy nod to believe it. "That little reptile!"

She whirled and stormed out, leaving Severus alone. Once more he slid down into a crouch, hugging his knees for warmth.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"_Petrificus totalus!_" The spell shot out of Narcissa's wand to strike Sirius square in the chest. His arms slapped to his sides and he fell backward into the grass. She charged forward, wand aimed at the other three boys, who stared in shock. "Drop your wands and move away," she ordered, "or Potter is next."

All three tossed their wands down and backed up several paces. Only James had the gumption to ask, "What do you think you're doing? You're going to get in trouble."

Her glare silenced him. "You think you're big, the four of you strutting around terrorizing other students! You're pathetic!" She looked down at Sirius; he couldn't move, but he could hear her. "You like to tattle, don't you, Sirius? So do I, and I'm telling your mother that you're bullying other kids."

"Like who?" James demanded.

"Severus, for one. How would I know who else?"

"You mean Snivellus?" he remarked, laughing. The other two didn't laugh with him this time.

Narcissa fixed him with a haughty stare. "I doubt it will do any good to report you, since your parents are undoubtedly as uncouth as you are. Just watch your step, Potter, because _I'll_ be watching. If I see that you or your nasty friends are tormenting him, I'll hex you without a second thought."

To make sure they couldn't retaliate when she turned her back, she gathered up their wands in one fist and flung them as far as she could, then addressed Sirius one more time. "I mean it, Sirius. It's not four on one anymore, it's four on two, and I know a lot more magic than you do." She resisted the urge to kick him before she left.

The other three boys raced over to pick up their wands and rushed back to Sirius. Remus pointed his wand at the boy, hesitating.

"Does anybody know how to remove that spell?"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Dolohov, over here," Voldemort instructed. "I want to see you duel with Bellatrix."

Antonin Dolohov, a man approximately Voldemort's age, stepped out from the small group of Death Eaters, eyeing the new member warily. She was young, likely had insufficient experience with dueling, which made him grin in spite of himself. He'd wipe the floor with her, earning himself praise from the master. And it was just plain fun to reduce someone to a heap of rubbish!

"Yes, master," he said, facing the woman. Now that he got a closer look, she seemed a bit more intimidating. Scary, even, in an intangible sort of way. The eyes.

The other Death Eaters scuttled back as far as they could against the wall, while the dark lord levitated himself to watch from above. He noticed the arrogant attitude with which Dolohov approached this task, his supreme confidence in his superiority. Confidence was good, necessary; overconfidence could be deadly. Let them all learn.

"No killing curses," Voldemort ordered. "Bow."

They bowed to each other. Bella bared her teeth, anxious to begin.

"Go."

The word hadn't died on his lips before Bellatrix had thrown a stupefying hex at Dolohov, slamming into his chest and propelling him off his feet. He landed, stunned, on his back. Bella loosed another that lifted him up and dropped him hard on the stone floor. Her wand aimed for another, which Dolohov deflected, rolling over and struggling up as he tossed back a silent expelliarmus. Neither dueler, both skilled at silent charms, dared give advance warning to the opponent by declaring their spells. Only streams of light flashing and moans and grunts from the man could be heard.

Bella threw up a shield charm, barely warding off the expelliarmus, then countered with a rapid series of hexes Dolohov blocked in a frenzy of movement. Her last, a transfiguration charm, glanced his shoulder. All at once the man released his wand, slumped over, dropped to all fours, and shrank down into a turtle the size of an ottoman. Bella shrieked with elation and turned to the dark wizard.

"I won, master!"

Voldemort, smiling wryly, lowered himself to the floor. He allowed her to approach and throw herself at his feet. By way of reward he reached down to pat her head. "Excellent, Bellatrix. You have shown your fellow Death Eaters that one must not judge an opponent by sight." The turtle Dolohov took a few tentative steps on his stubby legs as if to prove his point.

Bella cooed and groaned her satisfaction at his touch. "I wish only to please you, my lord."

"And you shall," he answered cryptically.

Leaving Bella kneeling where she was, he walked over and kicked the turtle onto its back, where it lay flailing slowly, piteously. "Feeling vulnerable, Antonin?" he taunted. "If the aurors catch you, they'll do more than transfigure you." He pointed his wand at the creature. "_Crucio_."

Dolohov's legs thrashed as rapidly as a turtle was able, his head crashing from side to side in his shell. The Death Eaters, observing from along the wall, each winced inwardly as they realized how the one being chastened could so easily be any of them. Every so often the master demanded a duel; the loser invariably suffered terribly. Nevertheless, they made no outward sign to indicate they held any feelings whatsoever about the punishment, lest said punishment spill over onto them. Voldemort lifted his wand, then swirled it once and Dolohov regained his shape, gasping and sobbing on the floor.

"Yaxley, Avery, I expect your Muggle delivery very soon. It's time I see young Malfoy, he has need of instruction."

"Yes, master," they chorused.

He entwined his fingers in Bellatrix's hair. To the rest he waved a dismissive hand. "Be gone."

They all Disapparated in puffs of black smoke. Bella leaned over to Voldemort to kiss his robe again, gratifying the evil wizard. He'd instituted the practice for them all, none of whom dared to object, of course. It gave him great—what his teachers at Hogwart's might have called perverse—pleasure to watch them grovel, to know they believed themselves better than that yet were forced to submit to his whims. He thoroughly enjoyed humiliating them as he'd done with Dolohov only moments ago, as he would do again to someone else next time he saw them.

His gaze dropped to Bellatrix. So new as a Death Eater, so loyal already. He'd not had provocation to punish her, although he wouldn't hesitate to do so. In the back of his mind he thought he might not take such joy from her pain. She wasn't like the others who associated themselves with him for personal prestige or power.

In all his years, even as a young man, he'd disdained love, nor had this attitude altered in any way through his life. Women meant nothing more to him than an avenue to power as their master, exactly the same as men. Why did this woman affect him differently? Her loyalty? Her absolute wholehearted devotion to the cause? He knew this much—it wasn't love. The dark lord had no need for such ridiculous, repulsive fantasies.

He knew the basics of biology—the process, if you will. The idea of tainting himself, sullying himself like a rutting beast had always been patently abhorrent to him; the mere thought of allowing lust to control him was inconceivable. Yet here, now, the notion of joining himself to Bellatrix didn't disgust him, didn't alarm him. She would willingly give him everything she had, including herself, and he would take it as the offering it was meant to be: an oblation to her master, a fitting sacrifice.

"Bellatrix, I wish you to please me."

"How, my lord?" she asked eagerly.

Voldemort blinked several times, momentarily speechless. "I have no idea."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Narcissa! Narcissa, wait!" Lucius trotted down the corridor, shoving students out of the way in his attempt to pursue the girl, ignoring their stares and snickers behind him as he gave chase to an evidently fleeing prey.

She spun around, intent on shouting at him to leave her be. Instead she veered off into the grass with him hot on her heels. He grasped her robe to halt her, which it did with a tremendous ripping sound. Narcissa stopped dead and glared furiously, holding out her hand.

"Give me my sleeve!"

Lucius handed it over sheepishly. "I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to do that. Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I don't even know who you are," she retorted.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Bella told me, Lucius! How could you? And then pretending—" She took off again.

He had an easier time chasing her down without students in the path, and he came around in front of her, taking both arms in his strong hands. "What did Bella say?"

Narcissa lowered her voice to a hiss. "That you're a Death Eater!"

His eyes registered shock. He should have guessed Bella couldn't keep her mouth shut, but did he think he could hide it forever? One day, on their marriage night if not before, Narcissa would see the Mark. There was no way to deny it. He cleared his throat. "Well, yes. But you believe what he promotes the same as I do. We purebloods are superior. The dark lord is trying to change the wizarding world so we aren't shoved aside by a deluge of mudbloods."

"And you believe that's all he wants? He's a maniac, Lucius! Do you really think he has your best interests at heart? Or mine?"

Lucius shook his head, letting go of her and stepping back. He felt too dirty to touch her. "No," he whispered. "Only it doesn't matter what I believe. I'm his slave now, I must obey. He's too powerful to combat."

"It's disgusting! Why did you do it, why would you throw your life away?" she cried, looking utterly heartbroken.

"For you. To have you."

Narcissa paused to comprehend what he was saying. Lucius became a Death Eater for her? To have her? But he already _had_ her! Unless he'd done this evil deed when she was betrothed to Ivan… but that made no sense. Her mind whirled, remembering prior conversations, assurances that everything would work out, they would be together in spite of facts to the contrary. No, not Lucius…

"You killed Ivan," she said in a deadpan voice.

"No, Narcissa, not me!" He hesitated to go on, yet she _knew_, and what she didn't know dear Bella would be only too happy to fill her in on. Better coming from him. "It was done so we could be together, but I didn't do it."

Her composure crumbled and she burst into tears. She stumbled toward the school, pushing against him on her way, the profuse tears making it difficult to see. Over her shoulder she bawled, "Leave me alone, Lucius! Just leave me alone!"


	9. Chapter 9

[Author's note: I am truly humbled by the response so far. Thank you to all my readers!

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Nine

"Ah, here comes our young friend," Voldemort cooed to his henchmen, indicating Lucius. Two Death Eaters strained their necks to peer out the window where their lord stood gazing. They watched as the boy approached, glanced furtively around, and ducked down the alley. "Meet us in the dungeon."

Yaxley and Avery Disapparated while the dark wizard merely stood staring out at the Muggles bustling by. How he despised them! He turned away, not yet ready to bring the youth to him. It wouldn't do to meet the boy too quickly, he might begin to think himself important. When he was sure Lucius must be getting antsy and on the verge of leaving, he finally swirled his wand and the lad appeared before him. Meticulously obeying the new rule, Lucius dropped to his knees, crawled forward, and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robe.

"My lord, you summoned me."

"Obviously. How are your Apparating lessons coming along?"

"Very well, my lord. Soon I'll be proficient." It struck him as odd that the dark lord should care one way or the other… except inasmuch as it impacted _him_. If Lucius couldn't Apparate, he couldn't appear at a moment's notice.

"Come, I have a chore for you. I trust you will not disappoint me."

Lucius' stomach did a backflip. That sentence, so coldly spoken, chilled him to the bone for even considering he might disappoint the man again. Before he could ask what this chore might be, they were transported to the dungeon where Yaxley and Avery leaned against a wall chatting. Immobilized on the floor lay a third person, which made the boy's stomach leap right into his throat. Not again! He hurriedly shoved down any hint of expression.

"Hey, Malfoy," Avery called out, walking toward him. "My boy tells me you're the one who got him drunk at your coming of age party." He halted in front of Lucius, scowling.

"Your son is a liar, Mr. Avery," drawled Lucius. He drew himself up a tad straighter, making complete, disdainful eye contact. "He's the one who stole the firewhiskey and gave it to _me_."

"How dare you call my son a liar?" Avery looked as if he intended to strike the boy, who didn't so much as flinch.

"Perhaps if our master deemed you worthy, he'd teach you Legilimency so you could see for yourself." He turned a cold shoulder, immediately assuming a submissive posture. "Master, what is it you wish of me?"

Voldemort, who'd been observing their interaction, gestured to the two men. "Prepare the Muggle." So, Malfoy did indeed have a backbone! He'd put Avery up to forcing a confrontation in order to study the lad's response. He thought it fortunate the boy had no problem standing up to an adult, one who by technicality held authority over him. It boded well for the position of leadership he was to hold if his conditioning progressed accordingly.

One of the men reversed the immobilization spell, the other sent the Muggle—a young woman this time—levitating in the air between them. The woman immediately began to thrash and howl, her long hair swinging wildly around her head.

"Please let me go! Please don't hurt me!" she sobbed. "I won't tell anybody, please—"

Because her mouth continued to move, Lucius presumed she was still begging, yet he couldn't hear her. A horrendous, raging pain tore through his brain, pulsing and throbbing with an intensity outdone only by the Cruciatus. He grabbed his head and fell to the floor, trying hard not to cry out.

"Master, there's something wrong with me!" he shouted over the clamor in his mind.

Voldemort bent down with a cruel twist of his mouth, his wand lazily directed at Lucius' head. "Is there? I like to call it 'Muggle ache'. The only way to relieve it is to fight back."

"How, my lord?" he managed through clenched teeth. He rocked back and forth on his heels, cradling his skull.

"You don't remember?" asked Voldemort in mock surprise. "What are the lessons I commanded you to learn?"

"Punishment—no, disobedience brings punishment," Lucius panted. It hurt so badly to think. "To inflict pain saves me from pain. Obedience brings reward."

"Just so, Lucius. How can you save yourself?" he prompted.

Hands shaking from the torment, Lucius drew his wand and threw a curse at the Muggle, whose body slapped into one of the stone walls. As if by a miracle, a bit of the agony in his head abated, then came roaring back stronger than ever. He stupefied her, earning him a few moments of respite. Finally, not knowing how else to stop it, he screamed, "_Crucio!_"

He couldn't be sure whether it was her flailing limbs and grotesque contortions or the unbearable suffering in himself that made him want to vomit. All he knew was the longer he held the curse, the more the pain in his skull diminished. At last he could watch it no more. He dropped his wand, expecting his head to burst from within. The woman flopped unconscious in the air, Avery's wand still trained on her.

"Well done, young Malfoy," said Voldemort. A flick of his wand removed the pain and brought on the euphoria he'd experienced at his previous torture session. Lucius fell from his knees straight onto his back, oblivious to his head striking the paving stones. It was gone, the pain was gone. He felt so good now, so overwhelmingly good…

Voldemort looked at the other two Death Eaters, their brutish leers a testimony to their depravity. They seemed to have very much enjoyed the show. "Do what you will with her. If she lives, wipe her memories and return her to wherever you found her. If not, dispose of the body properly."

He took hold of Lucius to transport him to the parlor where the boy could revel in his joy. He'd performed outstandingly, far better than Voldemort had hoped for in one so young, so unused to savagery. It was of utmost importance he be given time to delight in his reward.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Potions class—well, every class they shared, but particularly Potions—had become most unpleasant since Narcissa's unwarranted blow-up. Lucius could hardly endure sharing a workspace with her, mainly because her lack of conversation his way cut him more than he'd admit. She hadn't officially broken their engagement, yet to his mind she may as well have. She refused to speak to him unless absolutely necessary, she snubbed his attempts to make up to her. And now she was hogging the Potions table!

"Mr. Malfoy, I believe we agreed to keep on our own halves," she clipped.

Lucius picked up a handful of items he'd brought to the table and deliberately slammed them down over the imaginary line. "_You_ agreed."

With one swipe of her arm the whole mess tumbled onto the floor. "Oops. Looks like you'll need more ingredients." She settled her cauldron over the burner.

Gritting his teeth, Lucius made his way back to the supply table where Goyle and Crabbe were laboriously studying each item and trying to determine how much was needed. Goyle jerked his thumb in Narcissa's direction.

"What's her problem lately? She's being a real bi—" He caught himself before uttering perhaps the last thing he'd ever say.

"A_what_?" Lucius snarled. Bitch or not, she was _his_ and he'd defend her.

"A—big pain," Goyle sputtered, pleased to weasel out so cleverly.

Lucius grunted, gathered up another armload, and stalked back to his table, where the division was no longer imaginary. Narcissa had charmed a line splitting the area precisely down the middle with a glowing, flickering stripe. She glanced up at him, motioning at his half.

"Your side."

_Bitch_, he muttered inwardly. "Narcissa, this is ludicrous. You're being irrational and childish." He wasn't talking about their table arrangements.

"If that's the case, I guess you're lucky to find out when you did. You're free of the poor, immature girl who can't see clear to worship a lunatic who murders people for sport or convenience." She bent over her book, pretending to study the instructions.

"I don't—it's not—" What was the point? She didn't want to hear it, so she refused to understand. Then her words echoed back at him. _You're free of the poor immature girl_. His heart froze. It couldn't be; she hadn't used the accepted format, she hadn't said it to the public at large. "Narcissa, are you telling me you're breaking our betrothal?"

"I'm not telling you anything," she snapped.

"Fine," he snapped back, relieved and angry at once. He began measuring a fine powder into his cauldron.

Side by side, steadfastly ignoring one another, they worked on their potions. For weeks, ever since returning from Easter holiday, Lucius had tried to explain, had begged for her to forgive him, had promised her things he knew he couldn't possibly deliver, all for naught. Ivan's death had done more than end his life, it had effectively ended their relationship as well, even if Narcissa had yet to declare it. He was through pleading. If this was what she wanted, he had no choice but to accept it as graciously as a spurned Malfoy was capable. The least she could do was acknowledge him, acknowledge what she was throwing away! Instead she labored over her potions like she hadn't a care in the world, taking every opportunity to sabotage _his_ work in the process.

Lucius turned his head as Professor Slughorn strolled by. "I'm finished, sir."

"Hmmm," the man said, peering into his cauldron. "Are you sure you followed the directions?"

"Yes, sir." Lucius looked down. The rich, blood colored red had turned a pallid pee-yellow. He glared over at Narcissa, who wore a haughty smirk. "You ruined it!"

Slughorn patted his shoulder. "Now, son, don't blame someone else when your potion fails. You need attention to detail."

"I need eyes in the back of my head," he seethed. The moment Slughorn wandered off to check on another student, he surreptitiously removed his wand from his pocket, waiting for his opportunity. He leaned back, arms crossed, to watch Narcissa pour her potion into a vial and label it with her name. Carefully he pointed the wand, whispering the incantation. Instantly the vial shattered in her hand, making the girl yelp in alarm.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor Slughorn called out. "See me after class."

"What did I do?"

Slughorn locked eyes with him. "You heard me. Miss Black, I'd like to speak with you as well. Students, time is up, please bring me your potions."

After the rest of the pupils turned in their potions and filed out, Professor Slughorn motioned the two of them to the front of the room where his desk sat buried somewhere under a pile of books, papers, and assorted jars and vials. He laboriously sifted through until he produced a parchment with a list of names and grades, tapping at it intermittently as he spoke.

"This is the fourth time in three weeks neither of you has turned in an assignment. Those you have turned in are—well, to be kind—subsatisfactory. I hate to say it, but if this continues, you're both going to fail."

"She keeps sabotaging me!" Lucius growled.

"He does the same to me!" Narcissa balked. She held out her hand, stained with the blood red fluid. "He blew up my vial."

"Lucius, I saw you do it, so don't deny it," Slughorn said. He groaned as he arranged himself into the form of a chair, then sighed. "Much better. My feet were exhausted. Now, whatever is going on between you, either fix it or let it go. I'm not a strict professor or Head of House, but I have rules to follow myself. Up to this point in the term, you've both sunk to Troll level in your marks." He waved the paper still clutched in his hands as proof.

Both youths gasped, wearing matching appropriately horrified looks. There was nothing lower than Troll!

"You_should_ be appalled. You're bright, talented students. There are only six more weeks until classes dismiss for the summer, so I suggest you put forth more effort into your studies and less into your animosities." He shifted around until his arms blossomed into full armrests. "I'll see you both in detention tonight at seven o'clock."

Lucius straggled behind after Narcissa flounced out. She'd probably think it was to avoid her, but right now he didn't care. "Professor, can you let me make up the assignments?"

"I can permit you to re-do today's work tonight. Aside from that, what's passed is passed. You'll have to do exceptional work from here on out to make an Average mark. It's not even close to what you're capable of, but it's a decent grade."

_Decent?_ Lucius thought, his heart sinking like lead. _By whose standards?_ Not those of Abraxas Malfoy, that's for sure. Last year he'd gotten only two Outstanding, the rest Excellent. He'd summarily been beaten silly for his failure. To earn less than Outstanding was simply unacceptable. What would his father do if he brought home an_Average_? It was tantamount to admitting he was retarded! Even if Lucius tried to put a positive spin on it, the best he could say was it was marginally passing and he wouldn't have to repeat the class next term. Assuming, of course, his father allowed him to live that long.

"Sir, perhaps you have extra credit, or extra work…"

"I'm sorry, Lucius, I don't."

"Professor," he tried again, delicately balancing his apprehension against his pride. No matter how anxious the impending mark made him, he refused to beg. "My father will be… rather unhappy with an Average mark. Is there no way I can improve it?"

Slughorn pursed his lips and chuckled to himself. "Afraid not, my boy. Short of enchanting the parchment to reflect what you want it to say, there is no way, and I happen to know they don't teach that skill at your level."

"Thank you, sir," Lucius mumbled. "I'll see you tonight."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Rolling her eyes and giving a put-upon grimace, Bellatrix looked Lucius up and down as if trying to decide whether to let him in. At length she let out a sigh and stepped aside to let him pass.

"Apparated here all by yourself, did you?" she asked snidely.

"Do you see anyone else?"

"What do you want?"

Lucius sneered. "Aren't you the sociable hostess!"

Bella shrugged and hiked up her robes which were skin tight black silk that dragged the floor in a puddle around her ankles. She minced across the room to slither into a chair. "Damn shoes pinch my feet. Never take shoes off a Muggle you kill."

Unsure if she was serious or trying to perturb him, he ignored it. He was pretty certain he didn't want to know. "I need you to help me."

"Did the master send you?" she asked, suddenly alert, eyes shining.

"No, it's for me."

"Oh." She threw herself back into the chair. "Why should I?"

"You owe me, vampira!" he shot back, right before realizing insults might not be the best way to elicit aid.

Bellatrix stood up, tottering slightly on the high heels. "Brave man wants a fight, does he?" she said softly, fingering the wand that had somehow appeared.

"Sorry." He really wasn't, but niceties must be observed. "You told Narcissa I'm a Death Eater and now she won't even speak to me, so I think you owe me something."

A seductive thrust of her hip made him want to jump back. Instead he stared, transfixed, as she smoothed her hands down her body. "What do I owe you, Lucius? Getting horny without Cissy to attend you? You think you're ready to play in the big time?" She slowly licked her lips and took a few steps forward, intentionally swinging her bottom. "Narcissa is a little girl. Are you ready to handle a woman?"

"Stop it!" he barked, edging around the sofa to escape her. "That's not what I want, and quit talking crap about Narcissa!"

A harsh, loud cackle split the room. "Did you actually think I'd offer myself to _you_?" She laughed so hard she doubled over, nearly popping the seams on her dress. "You're such a fool!"

Lucius flushed to the roots of his hair. If he had anyone else to go to, he'd leave now and to hell with this crazy bitch! The only other he would dare approach was his sister Aphrodite, but that presented a conflict of interest; if it came right down to it and she helped him, she was just as liable to admit her part in it.

"Bellatrix, laugh if you want, I don't care. I came to you because even though you're… we don't get along well, you're a skilled witch. If anyone knows the spell I require, you do."

Even Bella, it seemed, could be flattered. "What spell?"

"Enchanting parchment. I'll be needing to change some marks on my O.W.L.s."


	10. Chapter 10

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Ten

Lunchtime wasn't fun anymore, no time was. Aside from Lucius' weekly Muggle and mudblood torture sessions with the dark lord, which did nothing to improve his humor, he did little besides study and mope. Now he sat brooding at a Slytherin table, picking at his food between stealing glances of Narcissa at another table, just as he did every meal of late. All around him boisterous Slytherins laughed, joked, shared stories, yet he heard none of it; attempts to draw him into conversation failed miserably.

Only a week of school remained until summer holiday, and he'd grown no closer to bridging the gap between Narcissa and himself. Why didn't she simply announce the end to their engagement and stop tormenting him? Everyone already knew, what was she waiting for? Each day he lived in fear of hearing those dreaded words, while simultaneously hoping for it for no other reason than to end this damnable suspense. With a final scowl thrown in her direction, he got up and left the room.

"Lucius," a voice behind him said.

He looked back at a pretty brunette striding quickly to catch up. "Yes?"

"Can I walk with you?"

He shrugged and kept walking.

"I'm Roxie."

"I know," he said. "You're in two of my classes."

She smiled, pleased he'd noticed. "I've wanted to talk to you for a long time, but with you and Narcissa together… you know, it seemed weird. And I didn't want her getting mad or jealous."

He sniffed. "No need to worry about that now."

"Where are you headed?"

Lucius paused. He didn't actually know, he'd just started walking to get away from _her_. It didn't really matter, his next class didn't begin for an hour. As long as it kept Narcissa out of sight, it would do. "Wherever you want to go."

Roxie flashed him a coy smile as she turned off the main corridor into a little-used hallway. "I found this place once when I was skipping class and I saw a prefect coming. I ducked in here." She yanked open a door Lucius would have sworn was a broom closet. Instead, stone steps winding the walls of a narrow turret spiraled upward as far as he could see.

"A watch tower?" he asked.

"I think so. Come on up." She took his hand and started up the steps, hugging the wall with her back. "Be careful, there's no railing."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," he drawled sarcastically. He pulled his hand away from her as he followed up the dizzying staircase, winding round and round with his back pressed so hard against the side he was afraid it might rip his robes. Not that he couldn't repair them, of course, it was the principle of the thing. In his mind he prattled on, trying not to think how easily they could plunge to their deaths. It wasn't that he feared heights, for flying had always been one of his favorite activities, but he had no broom, nor room in which to maneuver one.

"It's not much farther," Roxie said. She was enjoying the view of Lucius below her; it seemed a shame it had to end. Momentarily the steps gave way to a round, stone platform eight feet in diameter, surrounded by a chest high barrier. She walked to the edge to peek over.

Lucius' head popped up over the rampart. "Nice," he murmured, spinning slowly to take in the utter beauty of the scene. From this vantage they see the lake in the distance, surrounded by picturesque mountains and rolling hills. "I forgot how lovely it is here."

"You've been here?" she exclaimed.

"No, I meant Hogwart's. When I'm playing Quidditch I see this incredible view. I mean, when I _played_ Quidditch," he corrected himself, frowning. So he'd whacked his teammate with a bat, what was the big deal? The idiot was fine now, and look at how many times he'd _wanted_ to whack one of the other players, and hadn't. Shouldn't that count for something?

A cool breeze brushed over them. Roxie cuddled close to Lucius. "It's a bit cold, isn't it? If I'd known I was coming, I'd have brought a heavy robe."

"Hmmm," he answered. He wasn't entirely sure he liked her proximity, yet it seemed babyish to move away. And anyway, why _should_ he move away? At least Roxie wasn't ignoring him! Out of spite he put an arm around her shoulders.

She sighed softly. "Did you know I've liked you all year?"

"No," he said honestly. "Why?"

Roxie giggled and snuggled even closer. "Why do I like you? You're gorgeous and smart and everyone looks up to you."

"Well, um, thank you," he returned, blushing. He was glad she couldn't see it. He'd only meant 'Why do you ask?'

"Lucius, I realize we barely know each other, but…" Roxie tilted her head up to gaze into his face looking down at her. "I've wanted to do this all year. Do you think I could kiss you?"

Shocked into immobility, he could only stare stupidly. It had been so long since he'd kissed anyone except Narcissa. Roxie, assuming his lack of response to be permission, leaned forward, grabbed the back of his head in her hands, and planted a hard smooch on his lips. He stumbled back, pushing her away.

"Roxie, I don't think I ought to be doing this."

"Why not? You said you and Narcissa are through."

"But I—" It sounded too crybaby-like to claim he didn't _want_ them to be through. "It's not official," he mumbled.

"You can make it official." In two steps she was upon him again, pressing her body against him, forcing him backward into the barrier. "I'm not a prude like Narcissa. I'll give you whatever you want." Her hands seemed to wrap themselves around his waist, grope his ass, and cop a feel of his front all at the same time, sending a random thought flitting through his mind that maybe she had more than two of them.

Brushing aside her audacious mitts off his delicate areas as fast as she could place them, he answered, "I'm flattered." _And a little scared_, he acknowledged, heart thumping. He'd never been with such a forward girl, though he had to admit if Narcissa was the one feeling him up, he'd make no effort to stop her. "But until everything is settled we'd better just be friends."

"Friends who do this?" she purred, licking his throat from chin to chest.

He gasped with delight, biting his lip. If she copped another feel, she'd undoubtedly be more encouraged than would be prudent, given the situation. "Um, probably not," he breathed, yet this time he didn't push her away. "Oh!" There went her hand to his crotch!

"Oh," she echoed, smiling broadly. "You _do_ like it."

"Roxie, I can't!" he stated forcefully, taking her arms in his hands and shoving her roughly backward. She stumbled, saved from a nasty fall only by his tight grip on her arms, steadying her.

"You could! Your body seems to be in working order," she retorted, jerking free of his grasp. "Any other boy would jump at the chance I'm giving you. It's pretty obvious you enjoy it, so why are you fighting? I'm not ugly."

"No, you're very attractive," he conceded, "And I do like it, but… I'm engaged. I can't be fooling around with some girl." He'd handled that quite well, he thought.

Roxie kicked him in the shin and stormed over to the stairs, leaving him hopping on one foot nursing a bruise. "You don't play me and get away with it, Malfoy!" she hissed, then took off at a run down the steps.

"Play you?" he repeated to himself. "Who's the one getting all grabby?" He hobbled over to the staircase to peer into the winding shaft. Already Roxie was halfway down.

Lucius pulled off the leather cord holding his disheveled hair, smoothed his locks, and retied the cord, then brushed off his robes. By the time he eventually made it to the bottom, it might be time for class. Always best to be prepared. He gingerly stepped into the stairwell and flattened himself against the wall.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius didn't bother to show up for dinner. He wasn't hungry to begin with, and he had tests to study for. Besides, it was bad enough to face Narcissa day after day without having to navigate around another of the female beasts, especially that loose canon called Roxie. The stress had got to the point he truly couldn't wait to go home which, all facts considered, was definitely an indication of stress overload.

Goyle trudged in and stood staring at Lucius' back, saying nothing.

"What do you want, Goyle?" He twisted around to see the thug grinning—or leering, which just seemed too creepy, so he chalked it up to a smile.

"Narcissa's on the warpath. She found out you were screwing around with that slut Roxie."

The blood drained from Lucius' face. "I wasn't," he protested feebly.

"You don't have to deny it to me; I say if they offer, take it."

"I didn't, I said!"

Goyle shrugged his heavy shoulders. "That's not what Roxie told everybody at supper. She said you lured her into the watch tower and had sex with her. Narcissa's having fits in the common room right now. She tried to come in here but Crabbe stopped her."

Lucius got up on shaky legs. This was NOT happening, it couldn't be! Like the walking dead he pushed past Goyle and stumbled down into the common room where a rather large group of boys and girls had gathered around to listen to Narcissa recounting the things she'd like to do to Lucius. When she caught sight of him, she flung herself at him and began pounding his chest and arms with her fists.

"You lying, filthy cheat! I never should've trusted you!"

Lucius snatched her wrists, holding her at bay while he spoke in a calm voice belying his interior angst. "Roxie is the liar. I didn't do anything with her."

"Were you in the tower with her?" Narcissa demanded, struggling futilely to free herself from his grasp.

"Yes, but—"

"And did you kiss her?"

"No! She kissed me!" He probably shouldn't have said that.

Narcissa redoubled her efforts, managing to loose one hand, which she swung in an arc to smack across his face, hard. "Let go of me! I hate you!"

Gritting his teeth, Lucius held even tighter. "Narcissa, this isn't the place to discuss this. Everyone is watching."

She brought her knee up into his groin; immediately he released her and doubled over, while all the boys in the room winced as they automatically shielded their own jewels.

"This is the perfect place, Mr. Malfoy, because I am officially and publicly breaking our betrothal! I hope you rot in hell!" She burst into tears and ran off toward the girls' dormitory.

Lucius managed to lift his head in time to see her disappearing down the stairs. He forced himself upright, humiliation written all over him as plainly as the red flush in his face. This wasn't over, not by a long shot. He tossed his head, lifted his chin, and strode back to his room.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius pushed himself up from the wall where he'd been leaning, waiting. "Roxie," he drawled to the girl as she exited the bathroom.

Roxie looked over at him, wary. "What?"

"You went to a lot of trouble yesterday to cause Narcissa to break our engagement."

She shrugged one shoulder, still not sure where this was going. "What do you want?"

Lucius forced himself to smile pleasantly. Only his eyes refused to obey. "You told everyone we had sex. It seems only fair I get to do what I'm accused of. Don't you agree?"

Pursing her lips, she studied him silently. He was so awfully cute, and if he wasn't mad about yesterday, what would it hurt? "Okay."

Lucius snapped up her hand to whisk her along the empty corridor, glancing furtively around. He opened the door to a space under a staircase, tugged her inside, and closed the door tight. Hurriedly he drew his wand and chanted a bubble of silence charm.

"We wouldn't want anyone to hear, now would we?" he purred. In a heartbeat, he pointed his wand at her and growled, "_Immobulus_."

Her body went rigid; he stepped closer, eyes narrowed with fury.

"You despicable whore. As long as everyone believes you, it's alright? You can do what you want? Fine. As long as nobody can prove what I'm doing, it must be alright, too. Learn this lesson, Roxie, and learn it well: Don't. Cross. Me. Again."

He raised the wand once more to utter, for the very first time willingly, "_Crucio_."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

James and Remus ducked into a compartment of Hogwart's train, ready for their summer holiday, excited to be going home. They joined Sirius, who was slumped in the seat opposite them, his exuberance tempered by the news he had to share.

"I got an owl this morning from mum," he began. "She said to make sure you guys know not to contact me this summer. I'm not allowed to see you, thanks to Cissy."

"Why? Because of Snivellus?" James asked, making a disgusted face.

"Yeah. She said if I'm gonna pick on wizards, I could at least," here he imitated his mother's harsh tone, "make sure the scum are those filthy mudbloods!"

James' brow dipped, his hands clamped into fists.

"Sorry. Her words, not mine," Sirius apologized.

"She sounds… lovely," James replied, rolling his eyes.

Sirius smiled. "Don't let this fool you, she's really a battle-ax." He burst out laughing at his depiction.

"It's not nice to talk about your mother that way," Remus put in quietly.

"She also hates werewolves, doesn't matter if it's not your fault."

Abashed, Remus turned to look out the window.

"I don't think she knows about _you_," Sirius offered, trying to make up to him. "Just in general."

James leaned forward to nudge Sirius in the side and motioned outside their compartment where Severus Snape was trying to wiggle past a horde of Slytherin girls. For an instant he glimpsed inside and his eyes went wide at seeing his tormentors. He turned his head, shoving harder to make his way past.

"Should we, Sirius?" James asked, fingering his wand, grinning mischievously.

"Nah. Cissy's on the train, too. He'd probably run to tell her, then she'd squash us. She's in a _really_ bad mood since she dumped the blond jerk." A light shiver ran through him. He'd fought with his cousin many times over the years, they'd traded malevolent insults, but never had he seen her so utterly vitriolic as she'd become lately. "Looks like Snivellus is safe for another year, till Cissy graduates. After that, all bets are off."

"It's not really necessary to pick on him, you know," said Remus, continuing to stare out the window. "Why can't you leave him alone?"

"Spoken like a true pacifist," James mocked. "He's our sworn enemy, Remus."

"Hey, James," said Sirius. "Next week you want to sneak over to Lily's and peek in her windows?"

"Yeah! Wait, I thought you weren't allowed to hang around with me."

Sirius waved a hand as if to brush away his mother's orders, sniffing in a way barely short of contempt. "She doesn't pay me enough attention to notice if I'm home."

"What if she catches you?"

The other boy shrugged nonchalantly. "I've been hit before. It's the screaming at me I hate. Of course, if she really wanted to be mean, she'd make me go to Cissy's coming of age party." He made a show of gagging and retching, egged on by the laughter of his friends.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Every day since arriving home, Lucius kept an eye out for owls, purposely hanging around his father's study where delivery was most likely to occur. As long as Abraxas didn't become aware of his unusual behavior, and as long as the blasted owl arrived while the man was at work, Lucius foresaw no problem with his plan. Day four finally saw the arrival of the bird, which flew directly to the study and perched on Abraxas' desk. Despite the squawking protests, Lucius removed the paper from its leg with trembling fingers, his stomach churning, his heart racing.

Four O's. One E. One A.

"Damn it!" he snapped.

Unfolding the parchment completely, he laid it on the desk, pushing the still-irritated owl aside, and took out his wand. Bellatrix had—miraculously—taken the time to walk him through the steps to this particular spell, one much more complicated than the typical one-worders. It first consisted of obfuscating the current marks so that they became unreadable, followed by a beguiling charm to lead the reader into seeing what the wizard _wanted_ them to see, and finally a hardening spell to fix the marks on the parchment. Paying close attention to detail, Lucius recited the incantations exactly as Bella had instructed him, to be rewarded at last with a report that now read six O's. He held it up to the light and examined it from every angle, satisfied that no one could tell it had been faked.

"Thank you, Bella," he said quietly as he rolled up the parchment to reattach to the owl's leg.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Abraxas heard the owl hooting noisily in his study before he'd got anywhere near the door. Indeed, perched there on his desk was a Hogwart's owl; it did what could only be described as a bizarre little dance upon catching sight of him, leaping up and down, spinning itself in circles, hopping from foot to foot. He crossed the room, removed the parchment, and shooed it out the window.

"All O's," he remarked to himself. "That's more like it."

He set the paper down, prepared to relax from the day's work, when a cloying suspicion wormed its way into his brain. He tried to toss it out with the rationalization that Lucius wouldn't dare try anything so brazen. He wouldn't _dare_.

With a disgusted sigh, he removed his wand from his shirt pocket. He swirled it three times over the paper as he recited the charm, then tapped the wand down. Nothing. The marks remained the same.

"Well, good," he said aloud. If Lucius had somehow got hold of an enchanting spell, this countercharm would have revealed it. Unless, he thought in annoyance, the brat had managed to find an older wizard willing to teach him a spell bordering on illegality.

His wand lifted again. As he spoke the charm, he swirled it clockwise with a light rap on the parchment, counterclockwise and rap, clockwise once more. To an observer it would look like swirl-tap, swirl-tap, swirl-tap. The spell now reversed, his son's true grades stared at him like a slap in the face.

"Lucius!" he bellowed.

Not content to wait for a house elf to fetch the boy, he stormed up the stairs clutching the parchment in one hand, his wand in the other. He burst into his son's room, where Lucius was reclining on his bed. At the sight of his enraged father, he bolted upright and jumped off the bed.

"Father, what—" Then he saw the parchment, which was extremely hard not to see because it was shoved in his face only inches from his nose. He gulped loudly as if swallowing the heart that had leapt into his throat.

"Did you honestly think you could fool me, son?" snarled Abraxas. "Did you believe I wouldn't check for enchantments?"

"But why would you?" squeaked Lucius, backing up until his legs struck the edge of the mattress.

"Because I know you!" shouted the man. He balled up the paper and threw it on the floor. "Damned sophisticated enchantment, too," he went on, seething. "I know they didn't teach you that at school!"

This seemed like a good time for Lucius to keep his mouth shut, and for once he listened to his instinct.

Abraxas took a step closer. "Did I not make it abundantly clear last year that I expect more than mediocre grades from you? Of course, I did!" he answered himself. "Why else would you go to the trouble of enchanting the parchment? Instead of rising to the level of a Malfoy, you've apparently sunk to the level of a troll!"

In a tiny voice Lucius spoke up in his own defense. "It wasn't a Troll mark, it was an A."

"Shut up!" A backhand knocked him onto the bed. "I've tried, Lucius, I have tried _very hard_ to be a better father to you than mine was to me. Have I ever hung you in the dungeon for days on end until you thought your arms would tear from your body? No. Have I ever flayed the skin off your back so it took the healers days to fix you? No. How do you repay my leniency? By lying, cheating, mouthing off—hell, stealing and killing for all I know!"

He took a few moments of panting heavily to catch his breath while Lucius gaped in utter terror, then resumed the tirade. "Maybe my father was right. I respected him enough to be honest with him, I knew to keep my big mouth shut, and I sure as _freaking hell_ would never, _ever_ try to pull something like this!"

"Father, I'm sorry," Lucius murmured. "I won't do it again."

"You're damned right you won't!"

With one hand he snatched Lucius by the arm; with the other he waved his wand and the two Disapparated, then Apparated in the dungeon. Another flick sent Lucius careening face first against a wall where a rusty set of irons clamped onto his wrists and pulled him upward until his toes only scraped the floor.

"Father, please don't do this!" he begged. He struggled briefly, which served only to tear at the skin of his wrists. From the pain shooting through his nose, he could only surmise it had been broken in the collision with the wall.

"It's my responsibility to discipline you, Lucius. When you refuse to learn any other way, you leave me no option."

"I'll learn, I swear! Please let me go!"

Abraxas ignored the pleading. "I swore to myself I'd never use a whip on my children, and I haven't. I never made any promises about this." He put away his wand, then unfastened his belt, drawing it quickly from its loops. He wrapped the leather around his hand, buckle dangling. "You don't know how much it pains me to have to do this, son."


	11. Chapter 11

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Eleven

The longest night of Abraxas' Malfoy's life had been the night his beloved wife had died in a terrible accident. Last night had been the second longest. He hadn't been exaggerating when he described to Lucius the inhuman things his father had done to him, he was only trying to give the boy perspective, let him see how easy his own upbringing had been by comparison. Right now, as he paced the floor waiting for sunrise, it didn't seem to matter. His son was hanging by his wrists in the dungeon, where he'd been all night. He, Abraxas, strong patriarch of the family, shouldn't concern himself with sentimentality, but damn it all to hell, this was his _son_! He couldn't begin to fathom the utter hardheartedness of his own father, who'd many times over the years left him in the dungeon for two or even three days at a stretch. After only twelve hours, he was going crazy thinking of Lucius down there.

He couldn't take it anymore. Discipline be damned! If Lucius hadn't learned his lesson by now, he likely never would. Abraxas Disapparated, and Apparated into the dungeon. Lucius, sensing his presence, moaned.

"Father?" he croaked through a torturously dry throat.

Abraxas approached him, wrapped an arm around his waist, and used his wand to break open the manacles on his wrists. Lucius collapsed into him; Abraxas lifted him in his arms as if he were a small child, and gazed down into his marred features. Lucius' nose lay slightly bent and off center, huge black bruises nearly swelled shut his eyes, courtesy of the blow to his nose in the collision with the wall. The reddish tracks of dried tears stained his cheeks. With a light wave they Apparated into Lucius' bedroom where Abraxas lay him on the bed, cringing at the sheer helplessness of the boy.

"Lucius, I'm going to heal your face. It will hurt when the nose rebreaks itself to move into proper alignment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

Lucius winced but made no sound as his father performed the spell, then healed the associated bruises and swelling. He left Lucius on the bed while he fetched a cup of water and a cloth from the bathroom. "Drink," he ordered.

Lucius tried unsuccessfully to sit up, finally having to settle for his father propping his head up while he sipped at the water. When he'd finished, Abraxas lay him down again, dipped the cloth in what remained of the water, and washed the blood from his face. He could have scourgified him, of course, but the human touch was as important for him as it was for his son.

"I have to pee," Lucius said quietly.

"I'll help you up."

"I can't move my arms." The lad's voice broke. All at once he started to sob, unable even to turn away or shield his face. His desperate guttural wailing took hold of Abraxas' heart and squeezed mercilessly.

"Please, son, it'll be alright," he pleaded. Swiftly his wand ran along the shoulder joints as he recited the healing charms in his mind, then he moved on to the elbows, and finally the wrists. He lifted Lucius' arm to test out the range of motion, elated by the lack of cracking or screaming that would accompany a poorly done job. Full strength would take time to recover, but the pain was gone, the limbs were functional again. Placing his arm behind Lucius' back, he sat him up. "Can you walk?"

A tentative shrug was the only response. He knew he could simply take his son to the toilet himself, but the thought of shaming him further made his stomach turn. As it was he'd scarcely stopped crying, his face was still wet with tears, and Abraxas had no desire to start it up again. How could he have forgotten the degradation of his own youth, chained below, forced to soil himself, unable to move just as Lucius was now? It repulsed him in every way.

"Try," he encouraged the boy.

With his aid Lucius scooted to the edge of the bed and dropped his feet to the floor. Ever so slowly he stood up, carefully balancing until he was able to stand alone. "I think I can," he said.

Abraxas watched him totter into the bathroom. Minutes passed. When he emerged, it was evident he'd not only taken care of his primal need, he'd also washed his face and brushed his hair. He inched back over to his father, head bowed as if he expected to be chastised again. Abraxas helped him onto the bed; he lay back slowly, cautiously.

"Your back still hurts from the thrashing, I know, but I shouldn't remove all your punishment. Try to go to sleep. You'll feel better very soon."

In a strained, high whisper Lucius said, "I'm sorry, Father. I'll be a good son from now on." His voice caught, although it was apparent he wished to say more.

"You are a good son."

"I won't—won't make you do this again," he squeaked. The tears had begun to leak from his eyes once more and his lips trembled uncontrollably.

"I'll never do it again, Lucius, so help me God," Abraxas promised. "I just wanted you to behave, to obey…"

He placed a hand on his son's heaving chest. If ever he wished he understood a tender relationship between father and son, it was now. That was something he'd been raised to believe unhealthy, unnecessary, and certainly not something he'd ever experienced. There was nothing he knew to say, nothing he knew to do, so he perched on the edge of the bed to wait for the boy to fall asleep.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius Apparated into the alley mere seconds after Bellatrix. She glanced over, ready to either ignore him or make a snide remark, she hadn't decided which yet. Then she remembered something.

"Hey, blondie, how'd that charm I taught you work out?"

"Stop calling me blondie! And it went great, a perfect job."

"So why are you biting my head off? I did you a favor, pukey brat!" She shoved him aside to get to the entrance of the dark lord's domicile.

"You could've told me there was a countercharm," he seethed.

Bella shrugged and sneered, "Everybody knows that." Suddenly she stopped, her eyes widened, and she broke into a shrieking laugh. "You got caught! What'd daddy do to his poor widd-o Lucy-bucy?"

Lucius resisted the urge to gouge her eyes out. "Shut up. Just _shut up_."

"Just shut up," she mimicked. "Real intellectual, aren't you?" Before he could answer she passed through the door. As he came through he heard her saying, "Kids nowadays are so ungrateful."

Instantly they were transported to the Death Eater filled parlor, which gave Lucius an odd sense of relief. Of late, every time he'd been summoned he was immediately taken to the dungeon for more 'conditioning' or 'desensitization'. The task of tormenting Muggles and mudbloods was far easier now than when he'd begun, but he still didn't like it. The training was evidently having the intended effect, though, for the mere sight of a mudblood in his Herbology class the last week of school had set his head to aching. He'd had to 'accidentally' trip the boy, making him strike his head against the floor before the pain would abate.

He and Bellatrix fell to their knees along with the rest the moment Voldemort Apparated. In her typical over-the-top display of who could suck up with the most enthusiasm, she slithered to Voldemort and kissed his garment repeatedly, mumbling how proud and honored she was to be allowed in his presence.

_Way to set the bar low_, Lucius complained inwardly, scowling. Following her act, he seemed pitiful by comparison. He crawled up and gave his usual peck on the hem of the robe.

"My lord, I'm here at your command," he intoned, thinking how silly that sounded. Was there anyone here NOT at his command?

Bellatrix made a face at him which he interpreted to be smugness. They moved out of the way to allow the rest of the Death Eaters to bow and scrape.

"That's the best you can do?" Bella hissed. "He deserves your _best_, Lucius."

"At least my underwear wasn't showing for the sport of all those leches," he retorted. Because they must appear in the Muggle world, and Lord Voldemort had yet to introduce what would later come to be hallmark Death Eater robes and masks, the dark lord insisted no one wear over-robes, leaving Bella in her thigh-high miniskirt.

She glanced down at her attire. "I'll bet they liked it."

"I can't speak for them, but I thought it was crass and tasteless. Oh, sorry, that's how you always dress."

"Blondie!" she spat back.

"Are you finished, children?" Voldemort asked, cocking his head to the side as he stared unnervingly at them. The other Death Eaters huddled as far from him as they could get, every one watching intently for their reaction. Only now did the two combatants notice the frosty silence in the room.

"My lord, forgive me," Bellatrix exclaimed, prostrating herself again.

Lucius slid down to the floor as well, heart pounding furiously. "I'm sorry, master. I forgot my place."

"Not a good thing to forget, is it, Lucius?" cooed the dark wizard.

"No, my lord."

"Bellatrix, come here, sit beside me."

Bella crept over to sit at Voldemort's feet, purring as he touched the top of her head with one hand. All eyes gaped in astonishment at the preferential treatment being given for no apparent reason. If anything, they'd anticipated Bella and Lucius being tortured for their impropriety, and here she was being _rewarded_? All eyes shifted as one to Lucius who must, by default, bear the entire penalty alone.

Without warning Voldemort's fingers twisted in Bella's hair to wrench her head back, eliciting a yelp. In a chiding, almost fatherly tone he said, "You're older than the boy. Act like it."

"Yes, master," she agreed. Unbidden tears threatened to drip from her eyes at any second. He'd scolded her! He was upset with her!

"Lucius," Voldemort went on. "Why do you come here?"

"My lord?" His already frenetic heartbeat kicked up a notch to the point he felt faint.

"It's a simple question. Answer it."

"I—I came because you instructed me to. Obedience brings reward."

A twist of the dark lord's mouth might have been construed as a smile. Or not. "A true answer. An honest answer. You seek reward."

How was he to respond to that? Had it pleased the dark lord? Lying was definitely not the path to take at this moment. More than anything he sought to avoid punishment associated with _dis_obedience, but this would have to do. "All people seek reward, my lord. Few are fortunate enough to find one who can provide it for them."

Voldemort turned his gaze to the six Death Eaters listening attentively while they tried to blend into the walls. They shifted uncomfortably under his heavy stare. "Is he telling the truth? Dolohov, Avery, Goyle? McNair, is this why you're here?"

McNair fell to his knees. "I'm here to serve you, my lord."

"Lucius is a classmate of yours, isn't he?"

"A year below, yes, master."

"Should I reward him for his honesty or punish him for his lack of deference?"

The youth hesitated. He'd seen Lucius crucio-ed, and it hadn't been pretty. Sure, used on someone he didn't know he could draw satisfaction from it, but he'd hung out with Lucius, they were—if not close friends—friends. "That's not my decision, master. Only you can say."

Voldemort observed the boy squirming, struggling for a reply. Did he note a hint of loyalty toward Lucius when all allegiance belonged solely to the dark lord? It could not be tolerated. "It appears our dear Lucius needs reminding of his etiquette, as well as a lesson in how to serve his master. McNair, teach him."

McNair swallowed hard and pointed his wand. "_Crucio_," he barked, and Lucius fell to the floor writhing piteously.

After only a few seconds Voldemort motioned for him to lift the wand. "Well done, McNair. No hesitation to obey." He looked at Lucius, who was groaning and trying to rise. "Perhaps you should emulate your classmate, Malfoy. From now on, it would be wise to abide by protocol."

As quickly as that he turned his attention to the reason he'd called them here. "In the future you will need certain skills none of you yet possesses to any appreciable degree. Those in positions of power in particular must become competent at Legilimency and Occlumency. The rest of you may need it for self-preservation. Let us begin."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

So far Narcissa's coming of age party had been insufferable for Lucius. He'd attended under protest, citing that since they were no longer engaged, he wasn't subject to the normal rules. Abraxas countered with the fact that he'd been invited, and it would be poor manners not to show up. Malfoys do not exhibit poor manners, therefore he was going.

He sat by himself in a corner, ignoring everyone until Abraxas threatened to forcibly drag him over to congratulate Narcissa. He'd stomped over, smiled, kissed her hand, and wished her well, then retreated back to the corner to sulk over the injustice of it all. When her parents announced it was time for her waltz, his heart leaped in his chest. Narcissa scanned the crowd until her eyes lit on him, her face hardened a touch, then she took her father's hand and led him to the dance floor.

Humiliated yet again, Lucius stormed through the throng watching the dance, and pushed his way into the hall. _She was supposed to dance with me!_ He stalked down the hall, out the front door, and Disapparated.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Cissy," Bella's teasing voice came from behind her. "Why're you hidin' in the kitchen?" She took another swig from the firewhiskey bottle in her hand.

"I'm not hiding, I'm… making sure the house elves are doing their jobs."

"Yeah," said her sister. She took Narcissa by the shoulders and spun her around. "What're you cryin' about? The party's a hoot! Everybody's havin' a great time."

"Lucius was here," Narcissa said quietly. "Why did he have to come?"

Bella shrugged. She couldn't care less who showed up or not, but she was the big sister, she ought to comfort her. "He's a jackass. Don't worry, with that pretty face of his some other girl will snap him up and you'll be rid of him. All fixed, right?"

"He'll probably cheat on her, too," Narcissa remarked bitterly.

"Him? Cheat?" Bellatrix let out a drunken belly laugh. "I just read his mind a few days ago," she confided, leaning on Narcissa's shoulder so as not to tip over. "I'm learnin' from the_master_." What was intended as a whisper came out much louder. "That idiot Lucius is a virgin pining after you like a lovesick puppy. Makes me want to hurl."

"Really? He didn't—"

"This'll cheer you up," Bella continued, waving a finger in Narcissa's face, oblivious to her sister's comment. "A bunch of times when we went to see the dark lord, the master used the Cruciatus on him!"

"Oh, my God! Bella, are you serious?"

"Hell, yeah! Nothin' like watchin' the poor sap screamin' and rollin' on the floor, cryin' like a baby." Just thinking of it made her break into giggles. A terrific idea popped into her head and her whole body vibrated with excitement. "Maybe I'll _crucio_ him so you can watch."

"No! That's horrible! Don't you touch him!"

"Touch who?" asked Bella, right before leaning over to vomit on her shoes.


	12. Chapter 12

[Author's note to boxter—Do you think it's possible you accidentally skipped chapter 10? In there, Roxie told everyone she had sex with Lucius, which is why Narcissa broke up with him, and he later used the Cruciatus on Roxie as revenge. I hope you like this chapter.

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Twelve

"Master Lucius?" Dobby dodged the shoe thrown at him, then stuck his head around the corner again, huge ears drooping warily. "Master Lucius has a guest."

Lucius paused, arm upraised in mid-air, his other shoe at ready. "Who?" Probably Severus, his mother let him visit via floo network, but if it was one of those Goyle or Crabbe imbeciles, he wasn't interested.

"Miss Black, Master Lucius." The elf cringed, expecting a tirade, a flurry of tossed objects, or both.

_Bellatrix?_ he thought numbly. He'd told her not to come here! But the elf said _Miss Black_, not _Mrs. Lestrange_. He closed his book, heaved himself out of the chair, and walked past the cowering elf, forgetting he was even there. His step quickened to think it might be Narcissa. But why would she come in the middle of her own party? She wouldn't, of course! That idiot Dobby must have meant _Mrs._ Black, who was one of the last people on Earth he wanted to talk to! He made a mental note to throttle the creature the next time he saw it.

By the time he reached the parlor he'd formulated his excuse for leaving the party early: He didn't feel well. Lame, he knew, but it was the best he could come up with.

"Mrs. Bl—Narcissa!" he exclaimed. A spate of emotions ran through him, though he honestly wasn't sure which ones to latch onto. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip. "I have no right to come after everything I said and did to you." When he didn't respond right away, her face fell. How could she have expected him to act like none of it had taken place? Nevertheless, she forged on. "Bella told me you're still a—well, that you didn't really do anything with Roxie. I'm sorry I didn't believe you and I embarrassed you and hurt you." Standing there dejectedly in her voluminous party dress, white-blond hair meticulously braided, lovely face looking so woeful it made his heart melt, it was all Lucius could do not to sweep her into his arms.

"I forgive you," he said softly. He offered his hand, which she took, and he pulled her close until their faces met. "It doesn't matter, I don't care about any of that." He wiped a few tears trickling down her cheeks. "Don't cry, honey, it's alright."

"No, it isn't. I was horrible to you, I thought evil things about you. I even tried to hex you with an engorgement charm, only I hit some Hufflepuff by mistake."

Thinking of it, Lucius began to chuckle. He could definitely say he was glad she'd missed him! "That's all passed. If you can answer yes to this, we can pretend none of this ever happened. Do you still love me?"

"Lucius! Of course I do! Why else would I be here?"

"Guilty conscience?" he teased.

She threw her arms around his neck and he crushed her to him; their lips met in a frenzy of desire. Her hands played through his hair, stroking and caressing as she pulled him so close it took her breath away. How she loved his hair, his face, his everything! No slouch either, he kissed her frantically as if afraid she might disappear at any second, running his lips over her face, neck, throat, compelling himself to stop before he lost himself in regions he had no business exploring.

"Narcissa," he gasped between smooches, "I've missed you so much."

"Me, too," she breathed.

"We have to make it official. Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

They resumed snogging for what seemed ages to the house elf skulking in the background. Dobby was pleased because if Master Lucius was happy, he was less likely to throw things at Dobby or berate Dobby or kick Dobby. He hoped they would continue this odd human custom for a long time. No such luck.

At length Narcissa pulled back slightly, her blue eyes troubled. "Lucius, I know you told the truth about Roxie, but have you ever lied to me?"

"What?" he asked, puzzled at the sudden change. His eyes pierced hers, searching for clues. Did she suspect he'd been with someone else? And if so, why? "No." Then, rethinking his position, he amended, "Not lied. Avoided the truth, you could say, about Ivan. That's all. I promise you now, no more lies, no half truths, no omissions. You're my wife, my life, and I won't hold back anything you want to know."

"Can I get that in writing?" she grinned.

He smiled. God, it was so good to hold her, to feel her, to smell her hair as he stood beside her. "If that's what you want." His hand traced down her cheek, caressed her neck.

"Answer me this and I'll believe you: has Voldemort used the Cruciatus Curse on you?"

Lucius paled, more at the mention of his name from her lips than the curse itself. How the hell did she know about that? As if he couldn't guess! "Yes, he has."

Narcissa winced almost like the pain was her own. "Why do you continue to serve him? I don't care what he says he stands for, he's evil! Why don't you leave him?"

_Leave him?_ If it weren't such a harsh reality it would be amusing. Lucius sighed. "You want the truth, so I'll tell you. I joined so I could have you. It was selfish and stupid, but I got you. I'm not sorry for that. Now he owns me, and if I try to leave he'll kill me—most likely after torturing and murdering everyone I love. Since I'm not willing to pay that price, I must become what he wants me to be. Is that honest enough?"

Narcissa blinked several times, taking it in, fighting back a wave of panic. He truly was trapped, there was no hope. "Does he make you murder people?"

Lucius shook his head. "No, he's never ordered me to do that. There are plenty of others perfectly willing. I think he has a plan for me, he wants me to become powerful so whoever and whatever I control, he controls, too."

"Then why does he torture you?"

"Because he knows I'm reluctant to follow him blindly. He can't stand anything but subservience." At this he pulled her closer again and dropped his head on hers. "No matter what, I love you. Whatever I do in service to the dark lord has no effect on that."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Dobby met Abraxas at the front door where he'd Apparated. "Master Malfoy is home early. Can Dobby take Master's cloak?"

Abraxas handed the cloak to the elf. "Miss Black disappeared from her party," he said grimly. "No one's in a very festive mood."

"Miss Black is not disappearing, Master Malfoy," Dobby jabbered excitedly, happy to help. "Dobby saw Miss Black tonight."

The man's eyes widened. "She was here?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy. Miss Black was with Master Lucius."

"Did they say where they were going?"

"No, Master," Dobby said, shaking his head until his ears flopped back and forth. "Master Lucius never tells Dobby. Dobby sees them doing what humans calls snogging in Master Lucius' room."

Abraxas immediately Disapparated, reApparating silently in the boy's bedroom. Just as the house elf said, Lucius and Narcissa lay fully dressed on the bed, the young man spooning her. He cleared his throat with a mixture of aggravation and relief.

Both youths sprang bolt upright.

"Father, we didn't do anything, she—"

"Mr. Malfoy, we—"

Abraxas waved a silencing hand. "I can see that. Narcissa, your family is worried about you. Lucius, walk her downstairs and say goodnight."

Several minutes later when Lucius returned, he came to a jarring halt, alarmed at finding his father still in his room. The briefest look of terror that flitted through the boy's eyes made Abraxas ashamed. Only a second and it was gone, that slight recoil before catching himself. All his life Lucius had held a respectful fear, something his father considered a good thing. Now that it had morphed into doubting his own father's ability to restrain himself from brutality, he wasn't so sure.

"In the future, son, it would behoove you to consider propriety. Miss Black's reputation as well as your own is at stake here."

"We didn't do anything, sir."

"I believe you. Others might not. Am I to assume the betrothal is back on?"

"Yes, sir," Lucius answered, unable to keep a broad smile from spreading across his face.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. As for the Malfoy reputation, I think it can withstand innocent cuddling." His own smile, though amused at his son's elation, held an air of warning. "Make sure that's as far as it goes."

"Yes, Father."

"Goodnight, son."

Lucius lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, rolling the memory of Narcissa and their reunion around in his mind. Still grinning like a Cheshire cat, he hugged his arms around himself, wishing she were inside them. Tomorrow he'd have to get up extra early so he could spend even more time with her.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

_Dammit, dammit all to hell!_ Lucius griped. Lord Voldemort had sent him to the dungeon again where there awaited a man and a woman hanging up against one wall, the sight of whom brought sharp pains to his skull. He drew his wand, then hesitated. He hadn't been ordered to torture them, what if the dark lord had other plans for them? But this overpowering, pounding headache drove him to his knees… He let loose a brief_crucio_ and the relief came almost instantaneously. An obvious silencing charm on them kept him from hearing their screams, though he now noted the contortions with something akin to disinterest. He didn't understand why it helped to hurt them, only that it did. The master was right, to inflict pain on Muggles and mudbloods saved him from pain. Perhaps he was also right about exterminating the vermin; if they had the ability to cause such excruciating agony, it was necessary to be rid of them.

He was glad he'd pulled up his wand before a group of fifteen Death Eaters Apparated all around. He recognized several of them, including McNair, Mr. Avery, Mr. Goyle, Yaxley, Dolohov, and of course Bellatrix. They all fixed their gaze on him, a most disconcerting sensation.

"What?" he demanded. Crap, they must know what he did!

"We've been talking with the dark lord," Yaxley said. "About you."

"What about me?"

Another man who looked to be in his late twenties and whom Lucius had never seen before spoke up from among the cluster. "We mentioned to him how young you are. Unspoiled. And awfully cute besides."

Lucius scowled while the rest laughed. "Step away from the others and we'll see how cute I am." He raised his wand.

The man drew his own wand, but was stopped by one of the others muttering something. The man curled his lip and put it away. "The master said we're not to harm you. He promised a reward to those who eliminated a few of his particularly loathsome enemies, and we decided to ask for you."

For a long moment it didn't register what the man was saying. After a full minute of staring, trying to sort it out, Bellatrix finally snapped, "They want to rape you, dumbshit!"

Lucius' eyes grew to the size of oranges, but his lips bit down in a thin line, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. There were fifteen of them against only one of him, he couldn't hope to win, but he'd go down trying and take as many of them with him as he could.

"Look, boy, you're no match for any of us," Yaxley sneered. "Certainly not all of us."

"I'm not part of it, Lucius," said McNair, moving off to the side. "The dark lord didn't give permission, anyway." He whirled on the rest. "He said he'd think about it!"

"So you want to take the kid's side?" leered another man Lucius didn't know. "This could get very interesting."

"Maybe I can't win," said Lucius defiantly, his eyes blazing with fury. "But know this: if any of you rape me, you'd better kill me because if you don't, I won't rest until you're dead, until your mutilated, bloody carcasses lay stomped under my feet! And be assured I would make you beg for the Cruciatus just to stop the hideous tortures I've only begun to dream up!"

Yaxley patted his hands together in a cruel mockery of applause. "I'll take my chances." He started across the floor.

"_Stupefy!_"

Yaxley flew backward, slammed the wall, and slid to the floor. In the crowd of Death Eaters there seemed to be some dissent as they argued in low voices. At last half of them moved off to join McNair, including Goyle and Avery. Bellatrix meandered over to Lucius.

"Not_all_ of them think you're the cat's meow," she said, a twisted smile playing on her lips. "Don't worry, blondie, unless the dark lord gives the order, they aren't going to touch you." From somewhere on her skimpy attire she produced her wand.

For once he didn't object to her use of 'blondie'. If she was offering her help, she could bloody well call him anything she wanted!

The sudden appearance of Voldemort shocked them all into silence. He scanned their ranks, his keen mind piecing together the scenario. "Contention in our ranks?" he asked pleasantly, as if he were inquiring about the weather. To the small mob intent on deflowering Lucius, he clucked his tongue and shook his head like they were naughty children. "I said I'd ponder it, didn't I?"

That group nodded and murmured obsequious agreement.

"Why, then, is Yaxley unconscious over there?"

"He tried to disobey you, master," said Jansen, the twenty-something man. "Lucius stupefied him."

Voldemort spun slowly around, his cold eyes fixing on Lucius. "Finely done, Malfoy. I can assume you have objection to playing the harlot with your fellow Death Eaters."

"Yes, my lord, I do object."

"Nevertheless, my desires supercede yours, do they not?"

"Always, my lord," he choked out, holding his head up.

"What will be your response if I order you to submit?" persisted Voldemort, reveling in the discomfort and disgust he sensed emanating from the boy. Every shred of fear or loathing tickled his mind in a way short only of the unforgivable curses. Originally he'd had no intention of giving the Death Eaters what they asked for, he'd simply wanted to make them wait for his verdict. The delicious smell of lust and revulsion might change his mind.

There could only be one acceptable answer to the question, Lucius was astute enough to realize that. Refusal would mean hideous torture_and_ rape; obedience might buy him a hint of mercy. "I would obey you, master," Lucius said finally, his glare upon the Death Eaters across the room. "And then I'd kill them."

Voldemort actually chuckled, whether at the response or the unlikelihood of his being able to carry through on the threat. "Well said, Lucius. Because of your loyalty, I will reward you with my decision. Anyone wishing to take the boy will duel each other for him. The winner of said duels will face and duel Lucius. If he loses, he submits to_that person only_; if he prevails, he has my permission to use the killing curse on everyone involved in the duels. Any takers?"

By now Yaxley had roused himself and joined the group, his humor seriously compromised. "I will, my lord."

"And I," said Jansen, stepping forward.

A ripple moved through the others, who were evidently trying to decide if it was worth risking their lives to bugger one of their own. They decided to the contrary and flattened themselves along the wall.

The duel between Yaxley and Jansen lasted all of eight seconds. Several jets of light poured from their wands, then suddenly Jansen's wand flew from his hand, slapped the ceiling, and fell atop one of the onlookers' heads. Yaxley walloped him with the Cruciatus, smiling fiendishly as he watched the other man thrash and recoil in agony, egging him on to scream louder.

"Enough," Voldemort commanded, looking bored.

Yaxley waited another few seconds before lifting his wand. He turned to Lucius with an appallingly wicked sneer. "Ready, boy? You don't have a shot in hell, I've been dueling since before you were born. Come on, I'm waiting."

Lucius took a step forward, his heart in his throat, only to be pulled roughly back by Bellatrix, who sauntered out to meet Yaxley.

"My turn," she purred, baring her teeth.

"The master said men! My lord, she can't—"

"I said _anyone_, Yaxley," Voldemort corrected him. Although not delighted at the idea of Bellatrix volunteering to service the boy, he'd set the rules and so they would stay. He'd punish her later, in private. The very thought caused a rush of warmth to his groin.

Bella and Yaxley, both standing at ready, snapped into action. Curses and hexes flew, were deflected, ricocheted off walls. One particularly violent spell heading toward a group of Death Eaters sent them howling to the floor, protesting at the participants' lack of caution. Minutes ticked away as they rounded the room firing upon one another. All at once a blue flame shot from Bella's wand, engulfing Yaxley in a fiery blaze. Stunned, he had no time to attempt either a counterspell or a self-rescue effort. A second blast knocked him screaming off his feet.

"Help me!" he shrieked as his hands slapped ineffectually at the fire.

A wave of Voldemort's wand doused the flames. "It appears we have a winner. Bellatrix, Lucius, you're up."

Lucius trudged out to meet her with inane, jumbled thoughts racing wildly through his head. This was it. Bella was going to kick his ass and then have sex with him. Lucius shuddered. One bright note—at least she wasn't going to have sex _with_ his ass. He hoped she didn't set him on fire, it would ruin his hair and probably scar him for life… from the skin, he meant. And Narcissa. What was he going to tell her when he'd just promised to be honest with her?

He lifted his wand. _Protego_ he thought as Bellatrix cast a hex at him. It deflected back, narrowly missing her. He wasn't sure he liked the squinted look of malice in her eyes—or was that mascara? Damn it, Malfoy, pay attention! Another spell knocked him on his back, panting for air. Bella stood over him, grinning and pointing her wand in his face.

_Not the Cruciatus, not the Cruciatus_, he thought fervently.

"I win," she said smugly.

The dark wizard began to clap. His Death Eaters picked themselves up off the floor where they'd huddled for safety and joined in enthusiastically. Bella bowed graciously, smirking to herself, then unexpectedly came over to flop at Voldemort's feet.

"Are you forgetting to claim your prize?" he reminded her. Oh, yes, he couldn't wait to get her alone, to show her who the master was, over and over.

"I don't want him, my lord. I just didn't want Yaxley or one of those other perverts to have the satisfaction." She looked up at him with sheer adoration.

"I see, Bellatrix. Lucius, you may go. Yaxley, Jansen, get over here. The rest of you leave."

Lucius Disapparated with the others, leaving Bellatrix seated at Voldemort's feet and the other two kneeling in front of him. He truthfully didn't want to know what was about to happen.

Voldemort aimed his wand first at one, then at the other, then he addressed the woman. "You're the victor, Bellatrix. You do the honors."

The dungeon echoed with their agonized cries.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Merlin's ghost, can't you let me be!" Bella roared. "It's freakin' midnight!"

"You weren't here when I came earlier." Lucius attempted a smile. "May I come in?"

She let him pass, mumbling, "This is getting to be a habit. A _bad_ one!" The door crashed behind him. "What is it? If you're coming to collect the prize, get out before I hex you."

Lucius ignored her. "I know you don't like me, so why did you help me today? The master didn't order you to."

"In case you forgot, you're engaged to my sister," she said snidely. "Cissy'd never let me hear the end of it if I let them gang rape you."

"Okay, but you stepped in to take on Yaxley. How did you know I wouldn't have been able to beat him in a duel?" he asked, feeling stupid for even asking. There was no way on Earth he could have won!

She crossed her hands over her chest. "How many duels have you been in?"

"Um, counting today? Two."

"My parents started teaching me dueling the day I got my wand."

"How come Narcissa doesn't know how?"

"Because she's a pansy like you! Just thank me and get out, I'm tired!"

He wanted to reach out, at least shake her hand for what she'd done. She yawned in his face. "Thank you, Bella." Here he paused, then added, "Will you teach me to duel?"

"If it'll make you go home, yes."

"Great. Goodnight, then."

"Whatever. Shut the door on your way out."


	13. Chapter 13

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Thirteen

The rest of the summer passed far too quickly for Narcissa and Lucius, even after spending at least part of every day together, to the exclusion of all else. Because of their recent reunion, neither family wished to put any pressure on them, giving them a surprising amount of freedom to enjoy their holiday. Only Lucius' mandatory visits with the dark lord cast a shadow over the state of affairs.

Even Abraxas, unwilling to obstruct their restored relationship, had foregone demanding that Lucius study all summer to bring up his grades. It seemed pointless anyway to require perfection after the last two years had already destroyed any hope Lucius had for a superlative rating. With the school year only a week away, he'd made it clear once more than no shenanigans would be tolerated, although he highly doubted the boy leaned toward more mischief when he'd already paid dearly so often for his foolhardiness. Besides, how much trouble could he get in when he and Narcissa were joined at the hip? As long as they didn't join in another fashion, that is… Abraxas hated to dwell on that possibility. The shame on both their families would be devastating if Narcissa turned up pregnant. Despite his qualms, he'd sat down with the couple to clarify expectations, and both teenagers agreed they planned to wait for marriage. Well, technically, Narcissa agreed; Lucius petulantly noted he had no choice but to go along with it.

Lucius brushed his hair and tied it back. He'd already brushed his teeth, though he wished he had a mirror in his room so he could check his appearance before going to see Narcissa. He was tired of traipsing down the hall to a guest bathroom to view his reflection. Perhaps he should ask Father. They'd gotten along splendidly of late with only minor disagreements, truly a banner season; maybe he'd permit his son the luxury of a mirror now that he was practically grown up and definitely of age.

He took the stairs three at a time, clomping loudly down and hurrying out the door. He Apparated in front of Black Manor, where Narcissa was on the porch waiting for him.

"Hi, honey," he said, swooping her up to kiss her neck while she laughed.

"You're tickling me!" she giggled. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"I got an owl from Severus this morning inviting me over. I'm sure he'd like it if you came, too."

"Oh, Severus. He's a sweet little boy. He seems so serious all the time."

"Yeah, he is. He's really good at potions, so I asked him to make one for me. He said it's ready."

A disturbed look clouded her eyes as she peered intently at her boyfriend. "Lucius, did your father hurt you again?"

"No, it's nothing like that," he assured her. "It's, um, not important."

"Then what's it for?" she persisted.

Sheepishly he grinned and said, "It's an anti-inhibition potion. It makes people behave more freely—"

"I know what it does," Narcissa interrupted, her temper flaring. "Were you planning to use it on me so I'd have sex with you? That is so low! I wouldn't have believed—"

"Narcissa!" he clipped, not at all flattered by her wild jump to conclusions. "I_am_ capable of restraining myself. I'm not a Muggle or mudblood, I'm a Malfoy. Control is my middle name."

"Control_freak_, maybe," she shot back. "You even admitted to your dad that you didn't want to wait until we get married."

"Exactly. I don't _want_ to wait, but I will because I have _control_ over my body," he enunciated slowly to make sure she caught every syllable.

"Alright, what are you going to use it for?" She crossed her arms, tapping one foot impatiently as she stared him down.

He tossed his head, glancing sidelong to make sure she noticed his ostensible offense. In a hurt tone he drawled, "I don't think I care to tell you now."

She pounced on him from behind, her arms encircling his waist, her fingers digging into his ribs, tickling for all she was worth. When she had him on the ground begging her to desist, she said sweetly, "Only if you tell me."

"Fine!" he shouted through his laughter. Abruptly she stopped, allowing him to catch his breath and wipe his eyes. "You're cruel," he panted.

She lifted her hands, fingers wiggling threateningly. "I'm waiting."

"It's for a prank. I'm going to spike some of the Gryffin-dorks' pumpkin juice. I thought it'd be funny to watch those morons do all sorts of things to get themselves in trouble. It should prove to be very entertaining."

Unable to resist, Narcissa broke into a chortle. "You're so bad! You're a prefect, you're not meant to make them do stuff so you can take off points."

"That's just an extra benefit, my dear. Mostly I want to watch them make fools of themselves." Lucius got up off the ground and started to brush himself off. "Not that they need help for that." Offering her his hand, he said, "Shall we go? We can use the floo network so the Muggles in Severus' area don't see us Apparate."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus handed Lucius a small vial, indicating the stopper as he spoke. "You can measure with this. Don't use more than two drops or it might cause them to act irrational instead of just stupid."

"Thanks, Severus," Lucius replied, taking the potion. He held it up to the light; it was clear with a scant hint of lavender shading. "They won't be able to see it. Can they taste it?"

Severus shook his head. "Can't smell it, either. My mum watched me make it so it'd turn out perfect." A look of pride shone in his face, brightening his habitually morose countenance.

"Your mum makes potions, too?" asked Narcissa distractedly. She couldn't get over this hovel the boy was forced to live in. Why, six or eight of them would fit in Black Manor, and even more in Malfoy Manor!

"Yes, she's very good at it. She has a cupboard full of them, you want to see?" Without waiting for an answer he headed into the kitchen, followed by Lucius and Narcissa. With a flourish he flung open a top cupboard door to reveal rows of bottles and vials of various sizes and colors. "See?"

"Wow," Lucius remarked, truly impressed. He disliked making potions in class for a grade; he wouldn't be caught dead making them for fun!

"What are they for?" asked Narcissa.

"All sorts of stuff. This one is for bruises, that's a memory potion, this—"

"Who the hell are they, Severus?" A large man with thick black hair and a hooked nose stood in the doorway, blocking the way into the sitting room.

The door to the cupboard crashed shut. Severus inched away from it as though afraid it might burn him. "This is Narcissa Black and Lucius… M-Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" repeated the man. He let loose a rough snicker. "Fancy him showin' his face here."

Lucius squared his shoulders and raised his eyebrows a touch. A look of utter disdain crossed his features. "I don't believe we've met." A stabbing pain he recognized as the prelude to 'Muggle ache' jabbed through his skull.

Tobias disregarded his comment. "Eileen!" he bellowed. "Don't you wanna come see the Malfoy brat?"

"If you have something against me or my father, I'd thank you to discuss it in a civilized manner," Lucius snapped tightly. My God, he wanted to hurt this man, and not only because he was a Muggle!

A petite, dark haired woman came rushing in from another part of the house. She shoved her way past her husband and made a beeline for her son, whom she gave a quick glance up and down before relaxing visibly. "Severus, take your guests in the other room, please. Your father and I need to talk."

Severus didn't argue. Head down, he led the way toward the living room, to be halted by his father's hand gripping his arm, squeezing painfully. He squirmed, grimacing, dancing on tiptoe as the man shook him.

"You think because you're a wizard you're better than me, don't you?"

"No, sir."

A sharp cuff rang across his head. "You dare bring _him_ into my house!"

"Tobias!" shrilled Eileen. "Leave him alone!"

Not letting go of Severus, Tobias turned to shout back, "You probably encouraged him, you want to see the bastard's spawn!"

"Let go of him." Lucius stood only feet away, his wand pointed directly at Tobias' head. "He didn't do anything to be punished for."

Tobias dropped his son, who scrambled out of the line of fire.

"You're a big man, fighting with magic," scoffed Tobias.

"What does that make you, picking on a kid half your size?" retorted Lucius. All other noise in the house seemed to have ceased, even the sound of their breathing, as the onlookers waited to see what would happen. "And for your information, Severus _is_ better than you, Muggle, and he'd be better even if you were a wizard." Another pulsating pain tore through his head.

Narcissa edged up to her fiancé. "Lucius, we should go."

"Listen to your girly friend," Tobias sneered. "Go home, little prick."

All at once Lucius lowered his wand, stepped forward, and punched Tobias across the jaw with all his might. The big man tottered, stumbled, and fell into the kitchen where he struck his head on a chair seat, then slid to the floor. _Damn, that felt good!_ Already Lucius' head felt immense relief, in addition to soothing his insulted dignity. He turned to see everyone gaping at him.

"What?" he asked.

Eileen, who didn't seem unduly concerned, walked over and knelt beside her husband, checking his injury. A gash on his forehead was bleeding onto the floor. "Severus, bring me my wand and a memory potion." While waiting for her son to return, she studied Lucius carefully, appraisingly. "So you're Abraxas Malfoy's son?"

"Yes, ma'am." Come to think of it, he'd never met the woman. She allowed Severus to visit, yet never came herself.

She nodded to herself. "You're a fine young man. He must be very proud."

"Thank you, ma'am," he answered, somewhat puzzled. Why was she complimenting him when he'd just knocked her husband unconscious?

"Is your hand alright?"

Lucius glanced down at his skinned knuckles, which now that he thought about it were throbbing painfully. "It'll be okay. If there's a problem, my father can fix it."

"As I recall he was quite gifted at healing," Eileen remarked. Right then Severus came up and presented her the wand and potion. "I think it would be best if you go now."

"What if he—he's not going to hurt you, is he?" asked Narcissa, gesturing at the prone man.

"Don't worry." Eileen held up the tiny bottle, smiling wryly. "He won't even remember that he ever met either one of you."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Outside Bellatrix's home, in the garden out back, Lucius prepared to face the woman for his first dueling practice. It seemed to him she should have provided him with some type of expectations or rules or something. So far the only thing she'd given him was a bloody lip when he dodged an unexpected hex and landed face first in a hedge.

"Wait!" he shouted as she raised her arm again. "Aren't there rules to follow?"

Bella pursed her lips, rolling her eyes heavenward. "Yes. Rule number one: don't get killed. Rule number two: win!"

"I meant—oh, never mind." As he stood up he raked the twigs out of his hair. "Dumbledore doesn't approve of dueling, so none of the teachers will show us how it should be done."

"That's why I'm here," said Bella ever so genially, immediately before she stupefied him back into the hedge. "See, right there—you should've blocked."

"Thanks," Lucius groaned, struggling like an insect on its back as he tried to worm out of the bush.

He'd barely got up, had almost drawn his wand, and another curse sent him head over heels. He landed on his stomach, winded, on the other side of the row of plants. A third spell struck him full in the chest; he landed on his rump and skidded a good body length.

"Bella, quit!" he roared. "You're supposed to be _teaching_ me, not spanking me!"

Her lip curled in a snarlish smile. "I thought men liked to be spanked." She hooted at her clever repartee, then just as quickly her face changed to annoyance. "Throw up a defense! Fight back! Do _something_!"

"It might be helpful if you taught me some defensive spells. All I know is _protego_."

"That's a good one."

"I need more." He got up again, wand at ready, though to be honest he doubted how ready he'd ever be against someone like her, especially if this was to be the extent of his training.

"Baby," she griped. "Okay, you can deflect spells in the air with your own spell. Cast one at me."

Lucius threw a _stupefy_, seriously hoping she was wrong and it hit her good. His green bolt sped toward her, to be neatly knocked aside with a blue jet from her wand.

"See? Now you."

She shot a hex at him, which he pushed aside with his own. One would be hard pressed to decide which of the two was more impressed by his success. Bellatrix threw another spell, which he intercepted and knocked away.

"Not bad, blondie. Looks like it comes naturally—not like shielding yourself, obviously. Stop saying your spells out loud, it lets your opponent know what to expect so they can counter better."

Lucius beamed as unobtrusively as possible. If she knew she'd complimented him, she might feel compelled to remedy the situation. And she was right about not speaking the charms. He remembered his sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher touching on silent spells, although they'd spent no more than one or two class periods on them. He'd gained only limited proficiency, which practice would cure.

"You know what you need? Variety," said Bella as she cocked her head and stared at him.

_I thought I may have mentioned that a bit ago_, he said to himself. Better to let her think she came up with the idea.

Bellatrix scampered into the house, returning minutes later with a leather bound book clutched under her arm. She tossed the book to him, he caught it.

The title read _The Ultimate Guide to Dueling_. Lucius thumbed through briefly. The bulk of the work consisted of a tremendously long list of every type of spell, alphabetized and explained, along with ideal counter curses or hexes for each. Only a few of the spells he already knew.

"Learn that," she said.

"You're joking, right? There have got to be scores of spells here."

"Over a hundred, actually," she corrected him. "And I know all of them, which is why I can do this." She hurled two charms at him in quick succession. He deflected the first, only to be nailed instantly with the second.

Grudgingly he picked himself up off the ground, snatched up the book, and Disapparated.

As if he weren't in a foul enough mood, Lucius was greeted upon entering the manor by the sound of a crying infant. "Great," he muttered. He pitched the dueling book at Dobby with orders to pack it with his school things.

"Hi, brother," Aphrodite said. Tall, blond, and beautiful, she was the epitome of a Malfoy. Only six weeks after having the baby, her body had sprung back so no one would have guessed she'd recently birthed a child. In her arms she jostled the cranky baby. "I'm glad you're here. I came to see Father, but he's out."

"So what's that got to do with me?"

"I need you to babysit Niki for a while. I have to Apparate to Diagon Alley, and you know how Apparition is hard on babies."

Lucius stood glued to the spot trying to determine if she was putting him on. From the looks of it, she wasn't. "Why should I do it?" he exclaimed. "Why can't your halfbreed husband watch his own kid?"

"He's working—and stop calling him that!" Her eyes shot him a glower to say he was fortunate she was holding a baby.

"And Niki has his Muggle-tainted blood in her," Lucius continued, more to taunt his sister than out of actual spite.

"Father told you not to bring that up!" She took a kick at him, which he easily avoided.

"Father isn't here now, is he? Besides, I have stuff to do. Give her to the house elves, they can take care of her."

"I won't have my child raised by house elves." Without warning Aphrodite thrust Niki at him, and out of reflex his arms closed around her. "I'll be back in an hour or two." Before he could foist the baby back on her, she scurried out the door and Disapparated.

Lucius gazed down at the tiny face surrounded by blond fuzz. At least she'd stopped crying. "Your mum's a horrible mother," he said evilly. "Leaving you in the hands of a Death Eater."

Niki wiggled and cooed, thrashing her tiny arms and legs.

"Stop acting cute," he ordered. "How am I supposed to resent you when you're so blasted _cute_?"

She let loose a stream of nonsense syllables, then laughed as if she'd made the most hilarious joke.

"You think you're funny? I'll show you funny." He lifted the girl's shirt, put his lips on her tummy, and blew loudly. She erupted in squeals of laughter. "Who's the master? That's right, Uncle Lucius is."


	14. Chapter 14

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Fourteen

"Lucius, is there any specific reason you've been staring at me for the last ten minutes?" asked Abraxas. He folded his napkin and set it on the breakfast table.

"Now that you mention it, there is. When I was at Severus' house yesterday, his mother said something that made me wonder. Do you know Eileen Snape?"

An odd expression flitted over the older man's face. He looked down at his plate as he pushed around a piece of sausage with his fork. When it seemed certain he had no intention of answering, he said, "I knew her as Eileen Prince. I was engaged to marry her."

His son, who happened to be guzzling his juice, sprayed it onto the table in a fit of choking, coughing, and wheezing. When he'd calmed down enough to speak, all he could croak was, "What?"

"I'm not proud of what I did, which is why I never told any of you," Abraxas said.

"What did you do?" Visions of dreadful things raced through Lucius' mind. Had he used her and tossed her away? God forbid—raped her? Beaten her?

Abraxas leaned back in his chair, looking at Lucius but not seeing him. His mind was lost in the past. "When I was your age, seventeen, my parents arranged a marriage with Eileen. She was only twelve, so I hardly knew her or spent much time with her. At eighteen I met your mother. I loved her almost instantly. We dated secretly, and finally she told me she loved me, too. After that, I couldn't reconcile letting my parents determine the course of my life, so I broke off the engagement."

Now things made more sense. Abraxas hadn't stood in the way of Lucius' and Narcissa's relationship, even though it had been carried on by sneaking around, because he'd done the same thing!

His father continued, "I married your mother when I was nineteen. Eileen was still in school, but she ran off the following year to live among the Muggles who knew nothing of the disgrace I'd caused her. I've never forgiven myself for that."

"I don't think she holds it against you, Father," offered Lucius, trying to be supportive.

"Not now, maybe. At the time the whole affair was a huge scandal that put a blotch on the Malfoy name and shamed Eileen and her family. My parents were livid. Let's just say anything I ever did to you pales in comparison to what my father did to me when I told him I'd broken the betrothal." An involuntary shudder ran through him. "My mother cried and pleaded for me to reconsider. It was an awful time."

"And yet you refused to give up Mother."

Abraxas tilted his head, giving a dry smile. "And you would give up Narcissa?"

"Never!"

"There you have it." He got up and snapped his fingers at a house elf to clean up the table. "I hope Eileen has forgiven me. I hope she's happy." He pulled on his robe in preparation for work.

Lucius didn't have the heart to inform him of the conditions she lived in, the overbearing thug she'd married. There was really nothing Abraxas could do to change it even if he knew, and Lucius in no way cared to add to his guilt. "I hope so, too," he agreed quietly.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The feast in the Great Hall on the first day of school, as usual, involved four houses of boisterous students excited to return to Hogwart's. At a Slytherin table, Lucius and Narcissa sat side by side graciously acknowledging the congratulations on their renewed engagement as their friends and acquaintances streamed by to flop into their places. More than one young man held back his disappointment that Narcissa was no longer free; numerous girls shot Narcissa stabbing glances in the back as if to say Lucius should be available to them. None voiced a word of discontent.

The tedious process of sorting new students into houses would have seemed interminable if Lucius hadn't had his love leaning on his chest, rising up only to clap for new Slytherin members. As prefect, he had the duty to make students feel welcome, which he did as best he could by smiling warmly and greeting each boy or girl by name and indicating where they were to sit.

As the feast began, he glanced down to the end of his table where Severus sat alone. Not alone in the precise sense, for there were children all around him. Rather, he stared through them as they ignored him, stoically enduring the whole process.

Narcissa's eyes followed his and she frowned. "Poor Severus. I guess he doesn't make friends easily."

"I guess not," Lucius answered. "Do you want to invite him over?"

Narcissa looked around. "There's nowhere to sit."

Lucius elbowed the boy beside him. "Brad, move down and switch places with Severus."

The boy peered over in that direction, then wrinkled his nose. "No. I don't want to sit with a bunch of third years."

"Would you prefer Professor Slughorn finds out who broke into his supply cabinet and took the hash leaves?" Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"You can't prove it, neither can he," Brad retorted.

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's that Veritaserum is very effective," drawled Lucius in the most innocuous tone, smiling. Only his eyes promised serious menace.

Scowling hatefully, the other student picked up his plate, traipsed over to Severus, and pointed down to Lucius and Narcissa. Evidently taken aback, Severus' dark eyes grew three sizes. By his hesitation it was apparent he thought himself the butt of a cruel joke—until Brad lifted him up by the collar and fairly flung him in their direction, then threw himself unceremoniously into Severus' spot. The small boy shuffled up to Lucius.

"Hi, Severus, have a seat."

He did so. "How come you want me here," he asked bluntly.

"I thought you'd like to see the show," grinned Lucius, slipping the vial of anti-inhibition potion from his pocket and cautiously displaying it in his palm. After last year's hazing incident, he held no illusions that people around him were really friends, let alone to be trusted. "First order of business, Gryffin-dork table two." His line of sight centered squarely on the Marauders, who at the moment seemed to be involved in some debate.

"People will see you," Severus warned.

Lucius stood up, pulling Narcissa up with him. "Always bring a distraction," he said with a wink. "Preferably a pretty one. Come, my love. I'm sure you'd like to say hello to your cousin."

They sauntered over to the Gryffindor table where the four target boys sat on the end, spiritedly discussing something. They looked up when the older students halted in front of them.

Sirius rolled his eyes and groaned. "Hey, Cissy, I heard you and Lucy are back together. I pity you."

Lucius responded with a tight smile. "It's refreshing as always to converse with you. My fiancé and I thought that, being older and more mature than you, we'd come to offer the olive branch."

Peter's brow furrowed as he gnawed his lip wondering what that meant. "You're giving him olives?"

"It's a metaphor," explained Remus. "They want _peace_." He stressed the word, glaring around at his friends.

James, taking Sirius' lead, remarked, "You want us to like you? You want to be our _friends_?"

He and Sirius laughed uproariously. Peter, not entirely catching the joke, snorted and giggled along. Remus tried to pretend he wasn't there.

"Hardly," drawled Lucius.

Narcissa moved into the aisle between tables, drawing their attention as she approached Sirius. "He doesn't expect to become friends, he just wants me to be happy. It's a new year, a fresh start. And after all, Sirius _is_ my cousin. That means something to me." She leaned over to kiss Sirius on the cheek.

"Ewww!" he cried, wiping frantically at the spot. "Leave me alone!"

"Grow up," said Lucius. "One day, assuming any woman can stomach you, you'll have a girlfriend. I can only hope you'll have the decency to treat her better than you do Narcissa." He held out a hand, Narcissa came over and took it. They proceeded back to their table smirking.

"That was weird," said James.

"Not for her," replied Sirius. "She likes to embarrass me."

"You started it, Sirius," Remus pointed out. "They were trying to be nice."

"I think they forgot to give us the cake," Peter interjected, looking worried.

"Cake?" asked Remus.

"The metaphors."

All three boys stared at him, wondering exactly how brain damaged he was.

Remus proposed delicately, "I think you mean _petits fours_."

"Well, whatever. I hope they're good."

Back at the Slytherin table, Narcissa whispered across to Severus, "How long does it take?"

"Once they drink it, maybe five minutes," he whispered back.

Ten minutes later, it had evidently begun to work. Remus and Peter were loudly arguing over whether petits fours came with olives on the side, with Remus violently berating the stupidity of his companion.

Sirius and James were engaged in a competition to decide who was the more chiseled of the two. They swaggered up and down the aisles flexing their muscles and insisting the girls feel their biceps. Sirius stripped off his robes and shirt for them to get a better view of his scrawny frame while he flexed in contorted positions like a body builder. Not to be outdone, James whipped off his shirt and jumped onto the table.

Around the hall, they were drawing a good bit of attention and raucous laughter, particularly from the Slytherin group. At the teacher's table, Minerva McGonagall pushed back her chair to hurry to the source of the commotion. By the time she arrived, Sirius had joined James on the table and was performing obscene gyrations and pelvic thrusts.

"Mr. Black! Mr. Potter! Come down here immediately!"

Sirius held a finger up in the air. "In a minute—oh, Professor! Who do you think is more buff?"

"NOW, Mr. Black!"

"Why are teachers always such wet blankets?" complained James as he hopped down, accidentally kicking over a whole tray of fruits. They bounced and rolled in all directions.

Sirius bowed to the gaping, hooting students, strutted to the end of the table, and leaped down next to James. "I think I won, James. Hear the approval of the crowd?"

"Detention for both of you!" McGonagall huffed as she hustled them toward the exit. "I'm simply appalled at your behavior! And on the first day of school!" She continued to scold them all the way down the corridor.

Lucius grinned devilishly. "I wonder if I'd be allowed to deduct points?"

"I doubt it, dear," said Narcissa. "Not a good idea to draw attention to yourself just now, don't you think?"

"Hey, Severus, what did you think?" asked Lucius.

For the first time since he'd known the boy, Severus had a huge smile on his face. "It was perfect. Brilliant."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

After a lengthy tongue lashing, Professor McGonagall dropped the half-nude boys off at one of the lavatories, where they were to serve detention cleaning every nook and cranny until it sparkled. Literally. She'd promised to check for sparkles. By now the effects of the potion had begun to wear off, and neither of them was in a particularly jovial mood.

"Sirius, what the hell?" James griped. "What'd you think you were doing?"

"Me? You got on the table first, I was just playing along." He picked up a rag and a spray bottle from among the supplies scattered about.

"Uh-huh. Was I doing this?" James put his hands behind his head and started thrusting his hips rhythmically at Sirius.

"Oh, am I interrupting?" smiled a fourth year, cocking his head as he walked over to a mirror. "Don't mind me."

"You're not interrupting!" Sirius fumed. He gave James an irritated shove.

The boy leaned in so close to the mirror it fogged up as he smiled broadly to check his teeth. He then produced a string of floss, which he used as he mumbled, "Ish none a my bish-nesh. You two kharry on." Thinking that a bright thing to say in light of the situation, he chuckled.

"Exactly what are you getting at?" demanded James.

The boy turned around, still wearing his brainless grin. "Forgive my manners. I'm Gilderoy Lockhart. And you are…?"

"Trying to clean the bathroom," Sirius sulked. "Do you mind?"

"I understand," Gilderoy winked. "_Clean the bathroom_ all you want. You might consider going into one of the stalls—you know, in case some less tolerant people show up."

He turned back to the mirror, pulled a hairbrush out of his robes, and started singing a bizarrely off-key rendition of the Muggle tune "Satisfaction". "I can't get no—_satisfaction_…"

"We're not…whatever you think we are," James protested again.

"You know, I'm not bigoted," Gilderoy smirked, winking yet again. "It's refreshing to see boys not embarrassed to strip down for each other, to embrace their—"

"We're cleaning the freakin' bathroom!" James shouted. "Does that mop on your head preclude normal thought processes?"

Gilderoy stopped brushing long enough to cast him a bewildered stare, then resumed admiring himself.

Sirius, peeved at the dimwit's remarks and today's turn of events, deliberately sprayed the cleaning fluid at the mirror Gilderoy was currently making love to. It spritzed across his face and hair, causing him to recoil in revulsion.

"My hair! You got poison on my face and hair!"

Sirius and James looked at one another, smiled wickedly, and advanced together on Gilderoy. Sirius dunked the wailing boy's head into the sink while James turned on the water full blast, splashing and rubbing it heartily over Gilderoy's face and mane. At last they lifted him up by the collar, gasping and choking, and peered at him with expressions of utmost concern while he dripped all over the floor.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked solemnly, handing him some paper towels. "I only meant to hit the mirror, it had a spot that looked like a gigantic zit on your cheek."

Gilderoy wiped himself off, reflecting on their clear distress. He shrugged one shoulder. "Well, I guess I can understand that. I mean, who could tolerate such a catastrophe?" His hairbrush in his hand went into overdrive on the wet shock of hair. He threw himself another smile. "I do think I'm even more attractive with wet hair, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah," said James, motioning to Sirius to get this goober out of here.

"Gilderoy," Sirius sang, prancing closer and walking his fingers up Gilderoy's arm, "Do you want to help us _clean the bathroom_?"

Shying back, Gilderoy banged his rear on one of the sinks. "Oh, well, I wouldn't want to interrupt. You were here first."

"We don't mind," oozed James. "The more the merrier, right _chum_?"

"Too right," agreed Sirius, winking profusely at both James and Gilderoy. He reached out to play with a lock of the boy's hair. "Here, you'll be needing these." He pressed a stack of paper towels at Gilderoy. "_Cleaning_ can get so messy."

"Ironic, isn't it?" chimed in James.

"I—have to go!" Gilderoy dashed for the door, dropping the towels in his haste, and darted from the room.

"Gilderoy, wait!" pleaded Sirius. He stuck his head out the door to yell after the fleeing figure. "You forgot your brush!"


	15. Chapter 15

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Fifteen

Sitting alone at his station in Advanced Divination, Lucius lobbed his scarf onto the floor next to the table beside him. The tables being closely packed, he could easily have retrieved it himself, which he made a vague motion to do when the girl beside him bent down to pick it up. She handed it to him without a word, although her eyes lingered on him longer than her Gryffindor companions would deem appropriate, if any of them had been available at the moment.

"Thanks," he said with his typical sneerish smile where Gryffindors were concerned.

"Students, drink your tea so we can read the leaves," the professor said. She finished off her own and studied the dregs along the sides of the cup with interest. "Who would like to go first?"

A Ravenclaw immediately raised his hand. _No surprise there_, Lucius thought, rolling his eyes. He gazed out the window, yawning periodically while the boy prattled on about every particle in his cup, which excited the teacher no end. She praised his astuteness and seeing ability, nodding along as she joined him in examining the leaves.

Just when Lucius felt himself drifting off, he felt something else that shot through him like electricity. He bolted upright to find the Gryffindor's hand on his thigh. She smiled blithely, keeping her eyes on the teacher. Lucius brushed her hand off as if it were a huge cockroach. She doggedly put it right back.

"What are you doing?" he whispered through clenched teeth. Trying to be discreet and firm at once, he deliberately lifted her hand, moved it aside, and dropped it.

She jostled her chair a bit closer and gripped his leg tightly. "You have strong legs," she whispered.

"Get your hands off me, Fern!" he hissed as quietly as hissing would allow.

"You know you like it," she persevered. Her chair thumped even closer, effectively pinning him against the wall.

"And who's next?" the professor quipped.

"Me!" Lucius called out, stunning everyone in the room. Lucius Malfoy _never_ volunteered in class! He threw a scowl at Fern and stood up, holding out his cup. He only wished he'd bothered to listen to some of the classroom drivel up to this point so he'd have a clue what he was talking about. "Uh, it says I'm in love and destined for a great future." He sat down smirking to himself. With the class watching, she'd have to back off!

The teacher took the cup, examined it with a pursed frown, and handed it to the Gryffindor practically on Lucius' lap. "What do you think, Fern?"

Reluctantly the girl eased up off Lucius. "It says there are trials to come. I can't make out the rest."

"Excellent! Maybe you should study with Fern, Lucius. Who'd like to go next?"

"You should study with me," Fern crowed as she set the cup in front of Lucius. She winked at him as she said, "Want to meet me after class over by the Quidditch field?"

"No!"

"You're so handsome," she continued in a whisper, leaning in so close her mouth almost touched his ear. "I've always thought so."

"I have a girlfriend—we're getting married!" He had a hard time keeping his voice down, as evidenced by the stares coming his way.

"So? Dump her."

Face flushed red, Lucius delicately pushed her back into her own chair. If he injured her there'd be hell to pay, no doubt. "Leave me alone, Fern."

The teacher's voice raised in response to student chatter. "Next class we'll be using the crystal balls, so come prepared with questions you'd like answered. Class dismissed."

Lucius leaped overtop his table and dashed for the door, pursued closely by the tenacious Gryffindor.

"You forgot your scarf!" she called, waving it as she ran.

"Keep it!" he bellowed.

Lucius took advantage of his athletic build and sprinting ability. In record time he made it back to his House with the occasional panicked glance over his shoulder, finally collapsing and panting on one of the common room couches. That was close!

He removed the vial of potion from his pocket and held it up, shaking his head. "That's the last time I use this crap on a girl!" He dragged himself down to his room to hide the vial in his trunk.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Narcissa lounged on the back porch of her sister's home, watching Lucius and Bellatrix dueling. She felt sorry for her boyfriend, whose skills didn't approach those of the older woman. Every time a blast knocked him down or worse, she cringed and winced. Still, he was learning a lot, and he never complained about Bellatrix's treatment of him. They stopped, apparently because Bella had broken a leg bone and had to pause to mend it. Narcissa jumped up and ran to Lucius.

"Honey, are you alright?" She stooped down to hug him.

"It's nothing," he grimaced. "Bella said she can fix it."

"Have you been studying the book I lent you?" Bella asked as she pointed her wand at his leg.

"Yes. I know about a third of it now."

Bellatrix didn't answer. She'd noticed his improvement, though she couldn't bring herself to compliment him on it. "Has the dark lord made you duel?"

"No. I haven't even been to see him since school started."

Bella's head whipped up. "Six weeks? He hasn't called you for six weeks?"

"No, and I'm glad," he said, leaning up on his elbows.

With a hard shove she pushed him back down. "You shouldn't be! He's our master, it's an honor to be in his presence!"

Narcissa, not really knowing whether to interrupt, did so anyway. "Bella, calm down. At least he's safe." She'd secretly worried that Lucius was lying to her, that he'd been summoned without telling her. It set her mind at ease to hear the truth, even if Bella didn't like it.

"If he were loyal he wouldn't have to worry," sneered Bella. "Fix your own damn leg." She got up and flounced away toward the house leaving him lying in the garden.

"Bella! Help him!" Narcissa pleaded. Her eyes followed her sister, only to spy Rodolphus, Bella's husband, passing her on the lawn. He was headed right for them, which chilled her. She and Rodolphus, while not enemies by any stretch, could hardly be called friends.

"We can Apparate to my father's house," Lucius suggested tightly. The pain evidently was greater than he cared to let on.

"If your father knew you were here instead of Hogwart's, would he be mad?" she asked.

"Probably, but at least he'd heal my leg." _Before he broke something else_, he finished silently. So it was a bad idea.

Rodolphus stood over the pair, looking intently down at them, his stocky frame blocking the sunlight. Without a word he crouched down, waved his wand over the injured leg, and whispered an incantation. From the look of relief on Lucius' face, it had been successful.

"It's not totally fixed," he admitted, putting his wand away. "You'll need to go to the hospital as soon as you get back to school."

"Thanks, Rodolphus," Lucius said, sitting up and flexing the leg. A dull ache remained, though most of the discomfort had gone.

Narcissa's gaze traveled to her brother-in-law's left arm, and she froze. A skull with a snake coming out its mouth adorned his forearm, and she sucked in a gasp. "Rodolphus, when did you become a Death Eater?"

"Oh, that." He looked down nonchalantly. "Bella took me to the dark lord a few weeks back. I always despised Muggles and such, and with Bella spending all her time with him, I figured I might as well join, too. Get in on the fun. Now we get to spend more time together doing what we love."

Narcissa didn't dare ask what he meant by that. Bella and Rodolphus had been paired in an arranged marriage. As far as she could tell, the only thing they had in common was their irrational hatred of non-purebloods. It went without saying that disdain was warranted for the lowlifes, but outright _hatred_ seemed to her a bit extreme. If Rodolphus meant what she thought he did, he and Bella were taking part in the rumored torturing, possibly even killing, of Muggles and mudbloods. It was better not to know.

"You should go before Bella decides to hex you again," Rodolphus advised. "Come back in a week or so when she's had time to cool off. I'll talk to her—or better yet, I'll get her to visit the dark lord. She always comes back happy from there."

Narcissa averted her eyes. Lucius had told her what he suspected went on between Bella and Voldemort. Judging by the expression on Lucius' face, he was thinking the same thing. Did Rodolphus know? Did he care?

"Thank you, Rodolphus," she said. She looked at Lucius. "Ready?"

In a puff they Disapparated.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Bellatrix had never come to see the master without invitation. Not that it was forbidden or anything, but… well, he wasn't one to tolerate people wasting his time with useless twaddle. She'd seen him only yesterday, yet her soul ached for him as if it had been years. If he sent her away or—she scarcely dared think it—punished her for her presumption, it would crush her. She stepped into the dank, dark room knowing he would sense her presence. He always perceived when someone was waiting.

She lingered, expecting—or rather hoping—he would permit her entry. A disturbing thought wiggled through her mind as the minutes ticked away. What if he was busy? What if one of his other followers was a woman and they… No! No one was as devoted as she, no one loved him like she did! Her hand flew to her mouth in horror even though she hadn't actually uttered the wretched word. Love? Love was for ninnies like Cissy and Lucius, not for someone like the dark lord! It belonged to weaklings! Hurriedly she shoved it from her mind, blocking it out with Occlumency.

At last, after a full half hour had passed, she was transported to the parlor. The dark lord was alone. Whether such had been the case earlier she wanted very much to ask, yet held her tongue. She fell to her knees to kiss his garments.

"What is it, Bellatrix?"

"Nothing, master, nothing important."

"I don't need to be a Legilimens to know that. You would have pressed your Mark," he observed dryly.

She hesitated, then blurted, "I miss being in your presence, my lord! Even a day is eternity." Her head bowed, expecting retribution for her feebleness.

Voldemort gripped his hand into her thick, dark hair, entwining his fingers, pulling gently. He felt oddly flattered by her declaration, more so because he knew it to be true. Whereas the rest of his Death Eaters may pledge their undying loyalty to him, Bellatrix was the one he would trust above all, the one who asked nothing yet gave all. She'd even brought her husband into the fold, a man Voldemort sensed had a great propensity toward leadership where Muggle affairs were concerned.

"Something troubles you," he said at last.

"No, my lord. I—I have a question, if I may."

"You may."

Bella lifted her head to look into his face. Though his face was unnaturally pale, lined with cruelty, and his dark hair had begun to gray, he was still undeniably attractive; his eyes captivated her with their piercing beauty.

"My lord, Lucius tells me you don't summon him anymore. Are you displeased with him? If you wish, I'll punish him for you."

Voldemort's mouth twisted slightly upward. "I have no doubt you would. He has done nothing. I've decided to wait for him to complete his schooling before using him. With his family standing, he'll have no trouble gaining employment at the Ministry of Magic."

"He'll spy for you?" she squealed excitedly.

"Yes. I have other spies, as you are aware, but it takes certain connections such as his father has to bring him to the highest levels. Eventually he'll work his way up to Governor, where he can watch over Hogwart's and that old fool Dumbledore. A doddering coot he may be, yet he remains far too powerful to be left to himself."

"My lord, how wonderful! Lucius didn't tell me you discussed this with him."

"I didn't. When I'm ready, I'll inform him of his task."

Bella leaned her head on the man's knee, her heart fluttering with the touch. So Lucius didn't even know his life was already planned out for him, but she knew! The master had let _her_ in on it! She sighed, wrapping her arms around his calf. It seemed thinner, less padded… then it hit her. He wasn't wearing trousers under his robe! Her pulse quickened.

"Bellatrix, do you wish something else?"

"I wish only to please you, master," she whispered, devouring him with her eyes.

Voldemort regarded her thoughtfully, then extended a hand to her.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The young man stole silently through the common room, cautious not to make a sound in case any student had failed to leave for dinner. He scurried directly to the prefect's room, peeking around the door before entering. Ever so carefully he closed the door behind him. Now that he was in, he wasn't quite sure where to begin. He'd no idea which area belonged to Lucius. In a rushed decision, he pulled open the top desk drawer closest to him, hurriedly sorting through. Nothing. He did the same with the rest of the drawers, then moved on to the next desk. His heart pounded frantically in his chest. If he were caught here, these boys would not be kind!

The drawers revealing nothing of value to him, he moved to the foot lockers. The first, piled with layers of jumbled trash, he opted to pass over. Malfoy wasn't a pig. The second was nearly empty, easy to sort through. On the third he hit pay dirt. Nestled in the corner sat a tiny vial.

He lifted it up to examine its faint color, then uncapped it to smell it. Odorless. He leafed rapidly through the Potions textbook he'd brought along until he came to one that sounded like the concoction in his hand: anti-inhibition potion. Made perfect sense. With a grin, he poured half the brew into an empty vial he produced from his pocket, recapped it, and returned it to its spot. Moments later the stolen potion was secure among his belongings and he was on his way to dinner.


	16. Chapter 16

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Sixteen

Hard pounding on the door shook Lucius awake with a start. He disentangled his arms from around Narcissa, who moaned a quiet protest before sitting up. Both were fully dressed, albeit somewhat disheveled.

"What is it?"

"I don't know." Lucius threw open the door to one of the sixth year boys.

"Prefect, you better come see this!" the boy jabbered animatedly. "In the common room!"

"I'll be right back," Lucius said to Narcissa, and took off after the boy.

When he reached the common room, he saw dozens of boys of all ages standing around gawking and cheering at someone on the couches. He plowed his way through, pushing and elbowing, until he came face to face with three half-nude Slytherin girls playing kissy-face with two seventh years and a sixth year.

"What the f—king hell are you doing?" he bellowed.

The room became ominously quiet.

"Get to your rooms! Now!" he shouted at the gaping onlookers. To those on the sofa he said grimly, "I ought to tell Professor Dumbledore what's going on. This is disgraceful!" He walked around the couch, bent down, and threw the girls' clothes at them. "Get dressed."

One of the boys curled his lip, challenging. "It's disgraceful for us, but it's okay for _you_ to be in your room alone with the ice princess. What were you doing?"

Lucius smacked him across the face. "Don't push me, Brad! Slughorn will hear about this, there are too many witnesses to keep it quiet. You'd better hope the worst he gives you is detention."

By now the girls had dressed and stood in a huddle. One asked, "Can we go?"

Lucius nodded, trying to avoid eye contact. This was hardly the way he'd hoped to see a girl's breasts for the first time. To the boys he leveled an intimidating glare. "You stupid sons of bitches!" he seethed. "What were you going to do? Screw the whores right here in front of everybody?"

Two of them snickered. They stopped snickering when Lucius whacked them across the head hard enough to knock them backward onto the couches.

"I'll give you to the count of three to get out of my sight. After that, you're on your own." He drew his wand. "One—"

The three scurried like rats for their rooms. Lucius shook his head and sank down onto a chair arm. It was late, he didn't want to wake Professor Slughorn at this hour. In the morning he'd have to make a full report, one nobody involved was going to like. He looked up at Narcissa, who'd come to discover the cause of the commotion.

"Lucius, what happened?"

"There are a lot of perverts in our House, Narcissa."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Professor Slughorn met Lucius coming down the hall toward his office. His expression said he'd already heard about last night. "Come to my office, Lucius."

The boy followed him in silence until he could bear it no more. "Professor, I didn't want to wake you last night. I was coming to see you right now."

They entered the office, where Slughorn heaved a loud, terrible sigh. "The girls involved in last night's fiasco came to see me this morning. They claimed to have been bewitched into humiliating themselves. They've sent owls home, their parents are furious. They've gone to Headmaster Dumbledore, and it's out of my hands now."

"I understand, sir. Do you need the names of the boys or did—"

Slughorn managed to look even more solemn. "Lucius, I've spoken to the boys. The girls told me Brad is the one who gave them pumpkin juice, which they claim was spiked with this potion. Brad tells me he got it from _you_." He produced the vial of stolen brew, empty now. "I tested it. It's anti-inhibition potion."

The pit of Lucius' stomach gnawed savagely at itself, though he kept a straight face. "Professor, I have no idea how to make a potion like that, and I didn't give anything to Brad."

"Dumbledore has ordered me to search your things. I'm sorry to have to do this. Wait here for me." With that he plodded off.

Like a stringless puppet, Lucius collapsed into a chair. Slughorn would find the vial and Lucius would catch the blame. It was so unfair! He'd considered confessing to the possession of the concoction, but even that was a serious offense.

"Lucius!" came a hissed voice from the doorway. Severus poked his head in.

"Severus, leave. Slughorn will be back soon."

"He's looking for the potion, isn't he?" Severus asked, eyes huge. "Everybody's talking about what Brad accused you of. I'll tell Slughorn I made it and hid it in your room because you're a prefect and nobody would look there."

Lucius shook his head. "There's no point in you getting in trouble, too. It won't help me, and it'll only hurt you. Go now!"

"But it's my fault!" wailed the boy piteously.

"No. I asked you to do it. Severus, please, leave before he comes back." His cool gray eyes pierced into the younger lad's. "I'm asking you as a friend."

Severus' chin wobbled as he strove to control his trembling lips. "I'm sorry," he mouthed, then ducked out.

Slughorn returned a few minutes later, vial displayed between his fingers. "We need to go talk to Professor Dumbledore."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Abraxas Malfoy raised his eyes, expecting to see his secretary. "Aphrodite!" He got up, more worried than pleased to see his daughter.

"I'm sorry to bother you at work, Father. I won't take much of your time." She slipped in and silently closed the door.

"Is something wrong?"

"Well, no… yes. You know, since Mick lost his job a few weeks ago, he's been very depressed. He can't find another position, and bills are due…"

"You need money," concluded Abraxas. "I told him I'd find him a position, one better suited to my daughter's needs."

"He doesn't want help," she said gently.

"He doesn't want _my_ help, you mean. The man has a family to support, you'd think he could look beyond his pride."

Aphrodite glanced away. _Her father_ was talking about casting aside pride? "I agree with you, but right now I'd appreciate a loan."

Abraxas crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his head. "Since when does a Malfoy lend money to his children?"

"Father, please—"

"He gives it freely," interrupted the man with a smile. He opened his arms to her and she rushed in to where she'd always felt safe and secure.

A screeching from the window caused them both to turn. An owl sat on the outside ledge tapping at the glass. Abraxas opened the window, removed the parchment from its leg, and read it. Brow furrowed, he read it over again.

"This isn't possible."

"What is it?"

He handed her the note, cursing under his breath. "Your blasted brother is in trouble again. I swear, I don't know what to do with him!"

Aphrodite finished reading the note, looking every bit as puzzled as her father. "This doesn't sound like Lucius. It's probably a mistake."

"Maybe," Abraxas huffed. "But he's up to something, he always is."

She laid a hand on his arm and leaned onto his chest again. "Father, I realize he can be a pain, but he's just a dumb boy."

"I don't understand it, Aphrodite. Of all three of my children, only Lucius insists on trying my patience over and over. Your older brother never gave me a moment's worry, you're a perfect angel, and he's—_Lucius_!"

"He's a Malfoy, Father. Don't be too hard on him."

"I have to go, daughter." He pulled open a drawer of his desk, removed a fist-sized sack of galleons, and handed it to her. "I like to keep some on hand."

"Thank you, Father."

"You're most welcome. Kiss Niki for me." Then he picked up his cane and Disapparated.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Hours later, after being questioned by Dumbledore, and after a parade of parents had made an angry appearance to demand to know what kind of school was being run, Lucius' heart stopped cold. His father was striding up the corridor looking as dignified as possible with the accusations against his son broiling in his mind. Word had come down that Brad had been expelled, along with the two other implicated boys; Lucius' fate rested on the outcome of this meeting.

Lucius rose automatically to greet his father, who glowered ferociously but said not a word to him. Abraxas passed by into Dumbledore's office, only to reappear a moment later to snatch his son by the arm and drag him in. He tossed the boy into a chair without so much as a glance.

"Headmaster, it's obvious I received your owl. I'll tell you right now I don't believe a word of it. My son is not a womanizer, nor does he find it necessary to drug girls for his pleasure." His normal drawl had a distinct clip to it.

"Mr. Malfoy, Lucius is not accused of drugging anyone, nor of lascivious conduct. The boys responsible for this reprehensible act have been expelled."

"Then why am I here?"

Dumbledore lifted the little vial from his desk and handed it to Abraxas. "This potion was found in his trunk. Brad—one of the boys I expelled—maintained that Lucius gave it to him."

Abraxas studied the liquid briefly, certain he could guess very accurately what it was. "I highly doubt my son is capable of making such a complex potion this competently." He threw another scowl at the boy.

"Professor Slughorn agrees with you. Nevertheless, where he got the potion is not the question. The fact remains that he _has_ it. If he didn't have it, perhaps none of this would have happened."

"Have you considered that this 'Brad' might have planted the vial in Lucius' things?" asked Abraxas impatiently. "Why is it you're so willing to believe—"

"Father," said Lucius softly.

Abraxas turned on him coldly. "Lucius, do not speak again unless one of us addresses you."

"Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore, stepping between them. "I must confess I used a bit of Legilimency, quite by accident. I assure you, the potion belongs to him. Doesn't it, Lucius?"

"Yes, sir," he whispered. What else had Dumbledore seen when he read his mind? It couldn't have been much, he hadn't felt that sense of violation… Did he know about Severus? If so, what would he do?

"It's yours?" Abraxas repeated, stunned. "And did you give it to your disgusting friend for his amusement?"

"No, Father. He must have stolen it, I didn't even tell anyone I had it. I don't know how he knew."

Thoroughly embarrassed to have defended his son so forcefully when his guilt was obvious, Abraxas sniffed. "So what is to be his penalty?"

Dumbledore took a long look from man to boy, and breathed out a tired breath. "This infraction must be taken very seriously. The girls' parents are incensed, they're demanding justice. Expulsion would be the ordinary course of action."

For a full minute no one moved, no one spoke.

At last Abraxas regained his voice. "You must be joking. His offense is possession of a potion, he's not even charged with using it! He had nothing to do with those girls!"

"I realize that, Mr. Malfoy, which is—"

"How is this just? He didn't actually _do_ anything!" shouted Abraxas. "You're the Headmaster, you decide what is right, not those other people!"

"Mr. Malfoy—"

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm asking you not to expel him," Abraxas said, forcing himself to calm down. "Please. He won't be any more trouble, I promise you. If he so much as steps a foot _close_ to the line, expel him. Until then, let him finish the year." He stared down at his feet, clenching his jaw. "Please."

"As I was attempting to say, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore quietly, "I don't believe Lucius had any evil intent for the potion. Because of this and because you sincerely desire it, I am prepared to allow him to stay at Hogwart's as long as his behavior is acceptable. He will, however, have to serve detention every day until Christmas holiday."

Lucius' head swiveled rapidly from his irate father to the Headmaster. "So I'm not expelled?"

"No." Dumbledore gave him an odd, scrutinizing stare that made him drop his eyes. "But you are put on notice."

Abraxas inclined his head in a vague nod to Dumbledore. "Come along, son."

Side by side they walked back to Lucius' room, with the boy's heart in his mouth all the way. The utter, unadulterated rage emanating from Abraxas' seemingly smooth façade made his knees quake.

"Father it wasn't…" Wasn't his fault, he'd meant to say. But it was completely his fault. He had no real defense at all.

Abraxas pretended not to hear him. Only when they were safely tucked in Lucius' room, away from prying eyes, did he drop the mask to vent his fury. He grabbed his son by the hair and shook him roughly.

"You made me _beg_!" he howled. Lucius' head slammed into a wall. "Malfoys do not beg favors from inferiors!" Another thump as he was whipped around and his face collided with the opposite wall. "We do not demean ourselves in front of our lessers, but you forced me into it!" Resounding whack as the boy's skull struck the doorjamb.

Lucius dropped to his knees, feeling faint. Abraxas let go of his hair, panting from exertion and anger.

"I have been extremely lenient with you. I gave you freedom to see Narcissa, I let you slide on your grades. All I asked was for you to behave in a manner befitting a Malfoy, yet you couldn't even do that!"

Because there was nothing he could say, Lucius said nothing. He didn't even try to get up.

The tirade continued, punctuated by the harsh 'thwack' of his cane on the desktop for emphasis. "Get this through your head, Lucius. _No more!_ I've had it with you embarrassing the family, and it will _stop!_ If I have to come back here one more time, so help me _God_ I'll kill you with my bare hands! Am I getting through to you?"

"Yes, Father."

"Get up. Face me like a man."

Lucius stood up. The throbbing in his head made him woozy. Abraxas took his chin in his hand, gripping it tightly.

"Are you going to behave yourself?" he drawled softly.

"Yes, sir."

"I do hope so." He let loose the young man's chin and opened the door, then turned back for a final threatening glare. "No. More."

Lucius reached up to his hairline and drew his fingers away bloody, then went into the bathroom to wash up and assess the damage. All things considered, he'd gotten off pretty easy. Except for the death threat thing. He wasn't entirely sure whether his father was serious, and to be honest, he'd prefer not to find out.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Lucius! Hold up!"

Lucius spun around to see Goyle and Crabbe lumbering up the hallway toward him, seeming very excited. They joined up and pulled him off near a wall.

"Guess what?" asked Crabbe, grinning like a simpleton.

"Do I care?" Lucius responded.

"The Slytherin seeker position is open!" Goyle announced. If he'd anticipated a grand reaction, he was disappointed.

"How could it be?" Lucius said, curious though he tried to hide it. "If she got hurt, they'll heal her at the hospital."

Giggling like little girls, both boys leaned in to Lucius, and Goyle said conspiratorially, "She's pregnant."

Lucius' jaw dropped. "No! Who's the father?"

"She won't say," Crabbe answered. "Probably 'cause then he'd have to quit school to marry her."

"And her parents are already taking her out of Hogwart's," Goyle added.

"Wow. I didn't expect that," admitted Lucius. "She's only a fifth year!"

Crabbe, bouncing up and down on his toes, patted Lucius on the shoulders. "Now you can try out for seeker again!"

"I don't think so," Lucius replied, shaking his head. "I got thrown off the team last year, I doubt I'd be allowed back on." As intriguing as the idea was, he couldn't envision it ending on a positive note.

"But they're in a pinch," Goyle persisted. "And you were way better than her anyway."

They_were_ in a bind, Lucius thought with growing enthusiasm. And he _had_ been a good seeker. He smiled, remembering the fun he used to have. All at once reality settled around him like a cloud. The smile disappeared. "No, I can't. If the dark lord calls me, I need to be able to go to him right away. I can't leave in the middle of a game."

"But it's the _seeker_," Crabbe whined.

"You two of all people should understand," Lucius said with growing annoyance. "If the master calls you, what do you do?"

The two burly boys looked at each other in bewilderment, then back at Lucius.

"We're not Death Eaters," Goyle said.

"Last year on the train—when McNair showed me his Mark," Lucius prompted. "I thought you all had joined."

Crabbe, looking sullen, answered, "No. We tried to this summer, only the dark lord refused us. He said we're not—what did he say?"

"Not mature enough," Goyle finished for him. "He told us to come back next summer."

"Oh." What else could he say?

"Try-outs for seeker are tomorrow," said Crabbe tenaciously.

"I'll think about it. I have to go to detention now." He walked away, not actually intending to think about it at all, yet it consumed his mind. He loved Quidditch, he loved flying. What could it hurt to try out? He'd been called to see the dark lord a total of zero times this year, what were the odds he'd be called during a game? Pretty slim, he was certain.

He entered the Potions lab where Professor Slughorn sat waiting for him. His detentions to date had varied from manually cleaning tables to filing paperwork, which in itself could last until Christmas with the amount of junk laying around the man's office. He hoped today would be easy.

"This morning I had a bright idea for your future detentions," Slughorn chortled. "Since you like potions so much, and I need to replenish my storeroom, you'll be working on these until you get them all completed to my satisfaction." He handed a long list to Lucius, who examined it with a sinking heart.

Veritaserum, healing brews of various types, many potions he didn't recognize at all. Lucius looked up.

"Professor, I don't have a clue how to make half of these."

"It's all in the books, my boy," said Slughorn, thumping a stack of books on the nearby table. "I'll be back in a couple of hours to check on your progress."

The minute he was gone, a stream of words flew from Lucius' mouth, none of them fit for mixed company. He could be working on this till kingdom come and not finish!

A dark head popped around the corner. "Hi, Lucius."

"Hey, Severus. What are you doing here?"

"I heard what he said. I can help you."

"Do you always sneak around listening to people's conversations?"

"Frequently," the lad confessed. He came over to the table and plucked the list from Lucius. "Easy, easy, not too bad—we can get all these done by Christmas holiday. Shall we start with the reverse wart cream?"

Lucius' face split in a broad grin to see the shy little Severus taking charge. "Whatever you say. You're the Potions Master."

"Not yet," Severus returned solemnly. "Not quite yet."


	17. Chapter 17

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Seventeen

Home for the holidays. Done with school and detention and blasted potion-making! Lucius relaxed on the sofa staring at the massive Christmas tree sparkling in the middle of the room. Underneath the tree, amid the mounds of gifts, he spied the wrapped handle of a broom and he smiled to himself. The latest, fastest version available for Slytherin's new seeker, no doubt! Well, _new_ seeker wasn't entirely accurate, since he'd been seeker before being unceremoniously sacked from the team the previous year. Nonetheless, Father was proud of him, which meant a lot.

"Lucius!" a woman's voice called out.

Oh, crap, he'd forgotten he'd promised—under duress, as he'd not actually been given a choice—to watch Niki while Aphrodite went shopping with Father. He glanced around desperately for a place to hide. He'd loped halfway up the stairs before Aphrodite spotted him.

"Lucius, get down here!" she ordered.

"I, uh, forgot I have to… do something," he said lamely.

"Yes, you do. Take care of your niece." She smiled pleasantly while her gray Malfoy eyes shot daggers at him. She jiggled the baby up and down as if to jog his memory.

Grudgingly he stomped down the stairs, muttering to himself.

"What's that? Speak up," Aphrodite taunted. She thrust the child into his arms. "We'll be back in a few hours, or whenever we finish. Thanks, darling little brother."

Lucius grunted. "When I have kids I'll make sure they spend every weekend with Aunt Aphrodite," he mumbled half to himself. "Ow!" He jerked his head back as Niki's probing finger poked him in the eye.

"See how she loves Unco Yu-sis," Aphrodite cooed, imitating Niki and petting the girl's fine blond hair.

Lucius winked repeatedly through the tears running from his eye. "She's wicked! Like you, only… tiny."

"Don't call the baby names," Abraxas remarked, striding in with his travel cloak on.

"But she—"

"Lucius," his father drawled in warning. For emphasis he stamped his cane on the floor.

"Have a nice time," Lucius grouched through gritted teeth. He watched them leave, then rushed the baby into the main sitting room. "Dobby!"

The house elf appeared instantly, peeking out from the opposite side of the Christmas tree. "Yes, Master Lucius?"

"Take care of Niki for me."

The elf's eyes grew to enormous proportions and he shook his head, his ears flapping. "Dobby can't. Master Malfoy orders us not to," he said solemnly.

"What? Why?"

"Dobby isn't knowing, Master Lucius. Dobby can only obey."

Lucius hurled a pillow at him. Had anything heavier been available, it would have been first choice, but he made due. The pillow skimmed the branches of the tree, knocking off several ornaments, some of which shattered on the floor.

"Damn it! Fix that!" Lucius snarled, gesturing at the mess he'd made. "Or aren't you allowed to do that, either?"

Dobby ducked his head and hopped over to clean up the ornaments. Within seconds all the glass shards had reattached themselves into beautiful decorations and were hanging on the tree. Niki watched the scene in fascination, squealing her enjoyment at tossing pillows and floating ornaments. One tiny fist attached itself to a clump of Lucius' hair, and she held on tightly while squiggling around for a better view.

"You're pulling my hair out, you brat," he commented rather gently, trying to disengage her hand.

Across the room, Dobby gasped. "Master Lucius calls Miss Niki a brat. Master Malfoy says—"

"I know what he said!" bellowed Lucius. "Shut up and get out!"

He whirled and stormed out, not knowing where he intended to go, out of habit ending up in his bedroom. He deposited Niki on the bed. She promptly rolled to the edge, toppled headfirst onto the thickly carpeted floor, and began to wail. Lucius dropped down beside her, terror etched on his face.

"Niki! Are you okay?"

He frantically looked her over, relieved to see she could still flail her limbs energetically enough to blacken his eye if he got too close. At ascertaining she'd suffered no real damage, he picked her up and leaned back against the bed, able to breathe once more. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Uncle Lucius didn't mean to hurt you." He rocked her tenderly as his heartbeat returned to normal.

Soon enough her frightened squalls turned to sniffles, then she was squirming to be let down. With a flick of his wand he shut the door and let her go, watching her soldier crawl across the floor. Reckoning she'd be safe, he went to his desk to dash off a note to Narcissa.

_Honey,_

_I'm stuck here babysitting ALL ALONE._

_Won't you come rescue me?_

_Your adoring husband-to-be,_

_Lucius_

A sharp whistle at his window brought the family owl. "Narcissa Black at the Black Manor," he said. He turned around to check on Niki, only she wasn't there. He leaned down to peer under the bed. Nothing. "Niki!"

There were only two places she could be. He rushed to the bathroom, images of a drowned baby racing through his mind. She wasn't in the toilet; he slammed the cover down. Not in the tub. Okay, that left the closet. He traversed the bedroom again, using his wand to illuminate the small dark room. There, sitting on his best pair of shoes—bare bottomed—was Niki.

"What are you doing? Where's your diaper?" He reached down to pick her up and wrinkled his nose. "What did you do?" A puddle in one of the shoes answered him.

"Niki!" he shouted, startling the child and causing her to shriek.

"Don't yell at her!" Narcissa marched across the room to pluck the baby from him. Already her wand was out, pointing at the nude derriere. "Scourgify."

"You're here!" he exclaimed delightedly, trying to kiss her.

She frowned. "I catch you screaming at a baby and you want a kiss?"

"I wasn't _screaming_, I was scolding her. She peed in my shoes!"

Trying very hard to stifle a smile, Narcissa responded, "Even so, you must treat her properly. I won't have you bellowing at _our_ baby."

"At the rate things are going, we won't have a baby," he returned snidely. "Doesn't it require… oh, what's that word… sex?"

She stuck her tongue out. "Where's her diaper?"

"I don't know," he grumbled as he popped his head back in the closet and yanked the cloth out. "Here."

Narcissa took the diaper, at the same time noting a purplish bruise on his inner wrist. "Lucius, what's that?" Lucius had told her everything was fine with his father!

Embarrassed, he yanked away his arm and pulled the sleeve down, mumbling, "Sha-gamey hickey."

"What?"

Tossing his hair back, red-faced, he enunciated very clearly, "Niki gave me a hickey last night. Are you happy?"

Narcissa broke out in gales of laughter. "Lucius Malfoy, prim and proper, has a Niki-hickey!"

"Laugh, mock me, you callous wench!" he retorted in feigned affront. "If I can't get one from you, I guess she's the next best thing."

His girlfriend sidled up to him, provocatively pressing her lips against his throat, with Niki wriggling between them. "Maybe if we can get her to go to sleep, I could give it a go."

Lucius pulled out his wand, grinning. "No problem."

"Lucius! You can't hex her to make her sleep!"

"Why not? Our parents probably did it all the time."

She shot him a disapproving glance. "They did not. Look, I can't stay anyway, I only popped over to say hello. I told my mother I'd go Christmas shopping with her. I want to get you something nice."

"Horrid tease. I'd rather have a hickey," he contended doggedly. "A Cissy-hickey."

"If you're nice, maybe you'll get both." She handed Niki over to him. "See you soon, love."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Hours later, Abraxas and Aphrodite came home, dumped their packages at the door, and went in search of Lucius and the baby. They found the pair practically where they'd left them. Lucius lay sprawled on the sofa, sleeping, one arm hooked around the baby lying on his chest sucking on a lock of his hair.

"Oh, how precious," Aphrodite whispered, motioning for her father to be silent. "_Accio_ camera." She snapped several pictures, smiling evilly. "Narcissa is going to love this."

Abraxas strode over to shake Lucius by the shoulder. "Get up." Then to his daughter, "Aphrodite, you still haven't answered me. You will be here for Christmas, won't you?"

"Yes," she answered hesitantly. "But I don't know about Mick. All he wants to do anymore is mope around the house. He barely eats or talks. It worries me."

Her father peered intently at her. "I'll get him a job, I don't care whether he likes where it came from."

"He won't take it."

Lucius sat up slowly, cradling the still sleepy child. "That's because he's a lazy, halfbreed ingrate. You should leave him."

"Father, make him stop talking like that."

Abraxas looked over at his son, than back to her. "I'm beginning to think he's right."

"Father!"

"You deserve better, Aphrodite. You're a Malfoy. If this—halfblood—can't take care of you and my granddaughter, I insist you come back to live at the manor."

Aphrodite took Niki from her brother, not looking at him or at her father. They'd had this conversation too many times of late, and truth be told she was starting to wonder if perhaps they were right, if she'd be better off alone than with a man who barely acknowledged her presence anymore. "I'll talk to Mick, try to persuade him to take the job. If not, I'll tell him he's got one month to find a position or I'm coming home. Alright?"

"I'd rather you stayed here and sent for your things this instant, but I suppose it will have to do," Abraxas conceded. "We're concerned, daughter, we love you."

"I know, Father." She kissed his cheek and waved to Lucius. "See you on Christmas."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Rodolphus rolled over in bed to check the clock on the wall. Twelve-thirty. The spot beside him where his wife should be was still empty and cold. He swore aloud. It was Christmas Eve, for crying out loud! Bellatrix could have the decency to spend _that_ with him!

He got up and wandered into the front room, then into the kitchen, not actually expecting to find her. Jerking open the cabinet over the refrigerator, he pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey, dispensing with the cup to chug straight from the bottle. It burned most delightfully going down. In fact, it continued to burn along with his temper until half the liquid was gone and Rodolphus could scarcely sit up straight.

"What's the occasion?" Bella sneered, strolling up to him.

Rodolphus turned a bit in his chair. "Oh, you're finally home. Lucky me."

"What's up your ass?"

"Maybe I should be the one askin' _who's_ up _yours_!" he barked viciously. "Only I already know the answer."

"F—k you," she retorted and made to walk away.

Rodolphus snatched her wrist. "That's the problem, bitch! You're never here when I want you."

In a heartbeat Bella's wand was thrust in his face. He dropped his hand. "Never touch me again unless I give you permission," she seethed.

Rodolphus snorted firewhiskey through his nose. "When'll that be? You don't mind puttin' out for the master every day, but when's the last time I got some?"

Her eyes clouded and narrowed until they were mere slits. "The master is deserving."

"And I'm your husband," he spat back. "I don't give a rat's ass about you screwin' the dark lord, I just think I have some rights, too."

Bellatrix crossed her arms and glared at him. "You have whatever rights I decide to give you. What have you done that I should even consider gifting you?"

Rodolphus thought blearily for a bit, then piped up, "I killed a Muggle yesterday."

"Did you?" Bella purred, stepping in closer, her face animated, the anger dissipated. The pleasure emanating from her seemed almost carnal. "Tell me about it."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"School starts in two days. Christmas holiday went way too fast," said Narcissa as she snuggled in Lucius' arms. "You really should go pack your new things."

"How long do you think it'll take me? Besides, that's what house elves are for," he murmured into her hair.

"Didn't you say they never do it right?" she challenged.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Never."

"Miss Narcissa," squeaked an elf. It waited for her to acknowledge it. "Dobby from Malfoy Manor is saying Master Malfoy is wanting his son."

Lucius grinned at her. "I thought you weren't trying to get rid of me. This is a pretty tricky way to make me leave."

She kissed him hard on the lips before pulling away. "You'd better go. I don't want him getting mad at you."

"Until tomorrow, my love." He Apparated outside Malfoy Manor; as soon as he entered, he found Dobby jumping around in agitation at the front door, pointing wildly toward the study.

"Master Malfoy is in the study. He is wanting you!"

Lucius started off, picking up speed as he went. His father hated to be kept waiting. He scoured his brain, wondering if he'd done anything to upset the man. Nothing came to mind. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to be greeted by a most disconcerting scene: his father sat at his desk, face in his hands, weeping. In front of him on the desktop lay a parchment.

Disconcerted infinitely more than at the prospect of punishment, Lucius took a hesitant step forward. "Father, what's wrong?"

Abraxas rose very slowly, as if the effort was more than he could bear. He beckoned Lucius forward as he came around the furniture to embrace his son. "Lucius," was all he could choke out.

"Father, you're frightening me," Lucius said apprehensively. "What's happened?"

The man picked up the parchment stained with tears, responding between harsh sobs, "I just received notice. I demanded confirmation… the Ministry sent this." His voice, unnaturally high with emotion, came in ragged breaths. "Aphrodite and Niki… they're dead."


	18. Chapter 18Finale

The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Eighteen (Finale)

The first day back at school after Christmas holiday, Sirius spied his cousin traipsing alone down the corridor to the Great Hall. Alone? Unable to resist the temptation, he skipped up behind to meet her, smiling like a jackal.

"Hey, Cissy! Did you finally dump the blond prat?"

Narcissa halted suddenly, not expecting his voice, then whirled angrily on him, tears hanging in her eyes. "You are the most wretched creature I've ever seen! How could you pick on him at a time like this?"

Sirius automatically stepped back, sensing something ominous in her tone. The fact that she seemed more upset than was warranted gave him another clue. "What time might that be?"

"Like you don't know. Like your mother didn't tell you."

"As you're well aware, my mother doesn't talk to me." Wearing an evident look of concern mingled with morbid curiosity, he ventured closer. By now it was common knowledge that Mr. Malfoy had a terrible temper. Was it possible he'd really hurt Lucius this time? "Cissy, did something happen?"

Narcissa nodded as she drew in a shaking breath. In a strained voice she said, "Lucius' sister and niece were murdered, suffocated by his brother-in-law." She broke down in tears.

Sirius gaped in horror, unbelieving. "Oh, my God! Did they catch him?"

Her nod turned to a fervent shaking of her head, her voice upping a notch. "He killed himself with some Muggle weapon." Her body quaked with sobs she didn't try to hide.

Feeling completely helpless, not knowing what to do, Sirius awkwardly put an arm around her shoulders while she wailed. "Cissy, I'm sorry," he murmured. "Me and Lucius don't get along, but I'd never wish this on him."

Standing at a distance, the rest of the Marauders looked on in confusion. Sirius grimly shook his head in warning, and they wandered off to the Great Hall.

"Why would anybody do such a horrible thing?" he asked.

"I don't know… nobody does," she sniffed. Trying to be brave in front of her usually less than sympathetic cousin, she made an effort to staunch the flow of tears. "We have to go."

"No, we don't. Maybe you should go to your room. Nobody will say anything if you're not in the Hall." He led her over to a nearby half-wall where he gently guided her down and sat beside her.

"Why are you being nice to me, Sirius? I know you hate me."

"I don't hate you. And I'm not _always_ a jackass," he said, hoping to make her smile.

"That's 'cause you're a dog," she replied, grinning through trembling lips.

"Yeah, I'm a dog," he agreed quietly. He paused to gaze at Narcissa as if seeing her for the first time. "We're cousins, Narcissa. It_ does_ mean something. Doesn't it?"

She hesitated before blurting out the first thing to come to mind. Her parents had nothing good to say about Sirius; even _his_ parents had nothing good to say about him. As far as they were concerned, Sirius was a huge mistake, a waste of the Black name. But she'd played with him sometimes when she was younger, he hadn't seemed so bad to her, not all the time. She patted his shaggy head, nodding. "Bella says you're worthless. For a long time I was inclined to agree, but we are blood. It means something to _me_."

"Not to the rest of the family, though."

"I'm not the rest of the family."

Sirius gave a halfhearted smile. "Does this mean I have to stop picking on you?"

"I don't care if you tease me, just leave Lucius alone. This is really hard for him. Will you?"

The boy shrugged. "I guess it wouldn't kill me." Realizing what he'd said in light of the situation, he grimaced. "Sorry."

"But I still don't like you," she declared, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"I don't like you, either," he replied. "We're just trying to get along for the sake of family."

"Exactly."

"Good." He took a cautious step away. "So, I'll see you, then."

"Yeah. Bye." She got up and turned to flounce off to Slytherin House, halting after only a few steps to glance back. She watched him turn the corner, then continued on to her room.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Lucius."

The boy rolled over to see his father. At noon, he was still in bed, though sleep had long eluded him. "Yes, sir?"

"You need to get ready." For the funeral, which he couldn't bring himself to utter. "Narcissa sent an owl, she'll be here soon."

"_He's_ not going to be there, is he?"

"Mick?" Abraxas spat, as if the taste of the name were poison in his mouth. "No. His filthy halfbreed body was shipped to his filthy Muggle relatives."

Lucius sat up, eyes wandering vacantly over the bedcovers. "Why did he do it? If he was depressed or whatever, why couldn't he just exterminate himself like the vermin he was? Why did he have to take_ them_!" he finished with a furious punch into the mattress.

"I don't know, son."

"A real wizard—a pureblood—would never do anything so despicable," Lucius growled, pounding the bed again. "Damnable, asshole son of a bitch!" He averted his face to hide the tears starting anew. "It's the scum of Muggle blood that taints everything! I hate him, I hate _them_! I hate them all."

Abraxas walked over to rest an empathetic hand on his shoulder. "So do I."

For a few minutes they remained silent, mourning together in their personal hells, then Abraxas reminded him gently, "We have to leave, Lucius. Get up and get ready."

Mechanically he obeyed, going through the motions, hardly noticing what he was doing as he brooded, nursing his outrage and loathing. Even at the church, his mind refused to stay focused. While one might say he'd darkened the door of the church fairly infrequently in his young life, he'd been there often enough to know the routine, to play along mindlessly so none would guess what truly went on in his head as he sat there despising and silently cursing everyone and everything Muggle. They were the reason for these senseless deaths, their corrupt, contaminated blood that drove people to madness! What kind of a lunatic would murder a baby?

He stared blankly at the single coffin set between the pews. All that was left of his sister lay there, her lifeless arms embracing her only child, the only child Lucius had ever loved, both of their lives snuffed out by a pillow held over their faces for no reason he could fathom. He'd never told Aphrodite how he felt about her, he couldn't. She'd been his vexing, bossy big sister, these things weren't spoken. He hoped she knew. A lump rose in his throat and he mercilessly shoved it down. Malfoys did not show their emotions in public, they held their heads up in dignity.

_Why_? The word passed through his brain for the thousandth time, getting no closer to finding an answer. Mick was depressed, big ass deal! A true wizard, a _pureblood_ wizard, had the strength to master himself. If he chose to harm himself, he didn't feel it necessary to murder his family! Was he angry at Aphrodite for giving him an ultimatum? Was he afraid of losing her? And even if he was, what decent human being would _murder an innocent baby_?

Lucius barely felt Narcissa's hand squeezing his. He barely felt anything at all. The whole scene was so unreal, like a floating through a dream—a nightmare—and waiting to wake up, but knowing you won't. His eyes drifted to his father beside him, to the strong, proud face held high. Nothing, it seemed, touched Abraxas Malfoy; not the death of his wife, nor that of his eldest son, and now his only daughter and granddaughter. The sole change Lucius could detect was a profound weariness, a numbness like his own. In his father he beheld the epitome of self-control, the master of masks. Only his son among everyone here had ever witnessed the slipping of that control, the shattering of his soul. No one but his son comprehended the importance of the mask, of compartmentalizing life into manageable pieces where everything had a place and every emotion stayed where it belonged by the will of the master.

Abraxas turned his head slightly to see Lucius watching him. What he meant to be a tiny smile came out as more of an agonized grimace. Lucius returned the exact expression. Lucius understood. He alone understood. His son, his only remaining child, the one most like himself… Abraxas clenched his teeth as he inhaled deeply to stop those blasted emotions from taking over. What had he done in his life that was so dreadful that he had to suffer this way, by losing everyone he loved? What had Lucius done to suffer so? And what had Aphrodite and Niki done? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right.

"It's almost over," he whispered.

Lucius nodded, then went back to staring at the floor. Abraxas could only guess, albeit with relative accuracy, the thoughts and sentiments swirling through his son's mind. They were more alike than he cared to admit, certainly more than Lucius realized. The boy was already developing his public face, as was only proper, yet surely he held a seething turmoil inside himself similar to that which Abraxas had kept hidden for so many years. What good could come of sharing it anyway? A father's duty was to raise his son to be an upstanding, respected member of the community, not to blubber about his heartaches and disappointments. Lucius grasped that, he imitated his father's example, as it should be.

Abraxas peered past Lucius over to Narcissa's white, rigid form. A beautiful girl, to be sure. A perfect addition to the family. She, too, had been raised to respect the importance of pureblood family, of a public façade, of keeping private things private. She would make Lucius a good wife, hopefully give him many beautiful children. Lucius was a good boy—a good man, he deserved the joy only children have the ability to bring. Until they're snatched away…

He closed his eyes, forcing down the rising tide threatening to overwhelm him.

"Father?" Lucius whispered, nudging him in the side with his elbow.

Abraxas opened his eyes. "Is it time?"

"Yes."

Together they got up and walked the few paces to the casket. Lucius held out a hand to Narcissa, who glanced around uneasily as if wondering what the rest in the church might think.

"It's only for family," she said softly.

Abraxas, too, extended a hand. "You're to be my daughter, Narcissa. Come."

She joined them at the coffin; all three laid a hand on the casket, and Abraxas waved his other hand, instantly Disapparating them. They reappeared in the Malfoy family cemetery beside an open grave. No one spoke as the man levitated the box carefully down into the hole until it settled with a sigh on the earth, which then proceeded to bury the casket of its own accord. When it was finished, the three knelt in a row while Abraxas recited an ancient prayer for the dead. After he was through, no one moved.

"Lucius, take Narcissa to the house," he ordered. "I'll be along soon."

He knelt alone, his eyes roaming down the line of headstones that symbolized the lives of what used to be his beloved family. And he wept.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Kneeling at the feet of Voldemort, Lucius bent down to kiss his robe, then settled back and raised his eyes. "Thank you for seeing me, my lord."

Voldemort merely scrutinized him, his cold eyes piercing deeply into the young man's, probing, reading, feeding on the pain and heartbreak he found. The boy made no attempt at Occlumency, which pleased the dark lord. His subjects ought to leave their minds open to him. At last he inclined his head. "Why do you come to me?" As if he needed to ask.

Clenching his teeth in sheer hatred, Lucius replied, "My family was murdered, master. By a—a _halfbreed_. I wish to serve you, I want—"

"You wish to harm Muggles in retribution for their deaths," Voldemort said plainly, smiling ever so slightly.

"Yes, my lord." He knew Voldemort had read his mind, yet felt vaguely disconcerted at how effortlessly the man reduced his anguish to a simple sentence. He ducked his head as if to hide his eyes from further intrusion. "I truly understand now why Muggles must be purged from the wizarding world. Tell me who opposes you, who hinders you. I will make them pay."

Voldemort appeared to have been expecting this request, for his response came without a moment's hesitation. "Very well. Bellatrix," he said to the woman crouched by his side, basking in his presence. "Go with young Malfoy. Teach him how we deal with those who stand in my way. Take him to the mudblood's parents."

"My pleasure, master," she fawned. When she turned to look at Lucius, her expression changed from rapture to slight irritation, though she got up and went to him. "Come on, Lucius." Under her breath she muttered, "And you'd better not make me look bad."

They Apparated outside a small house nestled among rows of nearly identical houses. Lucius furtively glanced up and down the street.

"Shouldn't we have gone directly into the house?" he asked. It wasn't as if Muggles could put spells on their homes to prevent Apparation, after all. "Someone might see us."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and uttered a loud sigh. "Who cares? We can kill them, too." She led the way, using her wand to blast the door off its hinges, and stepped inside to face an elderly couple who looked positively terrified. She threw a silencing charm around the home. With a derisive flourish she introduced the cowering pair. "Lucius, meet Mr. and Mrs. Leonine, the proud parents of one of those mudbloods who've been stirring up the Ministry against us."

At the word _mudblood_, Lucius' eyes narrowed with pure loathing. He'd been informed, of course, about attempts by mudbloods to rile the Ministry of Magic to take action against Lord Voldemort and his followers. What right had they to demand anything? They didn't even belong in the wizarding world!

He took his place beside Bella, wearing a disdainful sneer. "You must be so proud," he said. "_Crucio_!"

The man slammed the wall and lay writhing and screaming as Lucius watched impassively. They deserved it, they had no business invading his world, spreading their filth and corruption, creating mudbloods and halfbreeds! He didn't realize the woman was also screaming until he heard Bella's gleeful shrieks and looked over to see the Muggle dancing hideously to Bella's Cruciatus. He lifted his wand; it wouldn't do to have the putrid Muggle die so quickly, would it?

Over the course of half an hour, Lucius and Bella took turns tormenting the couple, hexing them with non-lethal spells of all sorts to ensure a variety of sufferings. At last, when the game wore thin, Bellatrix casually pointed her wand once more.

"_Avada kedavra!"_

A green jet shot out and struck the woman in the chest. The Muggle dropped over for the last time.

"Your turn," Bella said excitedly.

Lucius aimed his wand. "_Avada kedavra!"_

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Mr. Charity, where shall I put this?" A young intern stood at his superior's desk holding a prophecy ball. "It has no name attached."

"Where did it come from?"

The intern shrugged stupidly. "I found it shoved back in one of the desk drawers when I was cleaning it. I guess the last intern forgot to file it."

Charity took the ball and looked it over. Inscribed on the bottom was the name of Cassandra Trelawney, a well-respected seer. It was dated over a year ago, when that previous useless lump of intern still worked here. "File it in the miscellaneous section."

The young man scooped the ball out of his hand and headed for the indicated area. When he was sure no one was around, he tossed the ball high into the air and caught it. He'd always wanted to do that, but with a labeled prophecy it could spell disaster for himself if someone came looking for it and he'd accidentally dropped it.

Once a prophecy, including this one, was placed on a shelf, he wouldn't be able to pick it up again, only the owner could. He decided to chance one more throw before settling it in its place. Up, up it went. Down it came, right into his palm. Guilty conscience notwithstanding, he thought he heard someone coming and hurriedly set the ball on the ledge alongside several dusty globes of various sizes. Upon turning to go, he heard the sickening grinding sound of glass rolling across wood; the prophecy dropped off the shelf and shattered on the floor.

A ghostly form rose up as in a mist, speaking her shrill tone so loudly he was afraid everyone in the Ministry must hear.

_The evil wizard starts to rise, his minions by his side; _

_deceives them all through shameless lies, by fear they shall abide._

_Devotion of the fairest one is tenuous at best. _

_Should loyalty yet come undone, he shall not fail the test._

_The Fates shall play a wicked part and give him cause to mourn, _

_cementing hatred in his heart. Death Eater has been born._

_All is not lost, for time will show the heart that lies within. _

_Regret shall split him from the foe and purge him of his sin._

The figure dissolved into the mist and disappeared.

The intern whirled around, frantic that someone must have witnessed his clumsiness and unprofessional conduct. There seemed to be no one about. With a relieved sigh, he said simply, "Oops." He bent down to pick up the broken shards on the floor.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"You missed!" screeched Bella in disbelief. "How the hell do you_ miss_?"

Lucius shrugged, his wand still directed toward the Muggle man, who lay waiting for death. Sensing his hesitation, Bella shoved him out of the way and cast the curse herself. The man collapsed dead beside his wife. Bella turned on him with contempt written all over her.

"What is your problem, sissy-boy? You claim to hate Muggles and to want them dead, and—"

"I do! I despise everything about them and everything they stand for!"

"And yet you can't finish the job," she scoffed, shoving him again. "How pathetic!"

Tempted as he was to push her back, Lucius had been raised a gentleman. He wasn't a sissy, he wasn't pathetic! His jaw tightened. Yes, he was. He had the perfect opportunity to vent his hostility and he'd screwed it up. He wanted them dead _in principle_, yet when it came down to action he'd deliberately avoided killing the man. Yes, he'd tortured them—and he'd enjoyed it, enjoyed their pain. No, that wasn't even true. He'd felt immense_ satisfaction_, much like what he'd experienced when he delivered the Cruciatus on Roxie. Torment inflicted in revenge for a wrong gave him _satisfaction_. Beyond that, it still felt depraved.

Bellatrix stood next to him glaring for all she was worth, annoyed that the moron didn't even notice. "What kind of a Death Eater can't kill?" she remarked, presumably to herself since Lucius was busy staring at the bodies—or through the bodies, she couldn't really tell. This hardly seemed the time for contemplation.

"I would've slaughtered Mick," he said hoarsely. "Torn him apart with my own hands in the worst way I could think of, not a quick death like this." His head swiveled over to Bella, where he said sarcastically, "Sorry I can't murder on command. Are you planning to tell the master I failed?"

Bella tossed her head, regarding him long and hard. Lord Voldemort had expressed to her his disappointment in Lucius' shortcomings, but he hadn't seemed overly concerned about it. The route Lucius was to take wouldn't involve the 'dirty work' that she reveled in. And Lucius _had_ tortured the couple every bit as well as she had. He wasn't completely hopeless.

In her haughty tone she made her pronouncement. "Only because I'm to be your sister-in-law, I won't tell the Death Eaters how pitiful you are. They might make some type of association. However, I hold back nothing from the master. If he chooses to give you a lesson in obedience, so be it. You're lucky his plans for you don't involve _this_!" She gestured around the room singed with hex marks.

"What plans?"

"When he's ready, he'll tell you," she smirked. "I'm his most loyal follower, he likes me better than you, so he confides in me."

Not loud enough for her to make out, he replied, "I'll bet if I was shagging him he'd like me, too."

Bellatrix stepped outside the door, aimed her wand into the sky and shouted, "_Morsmordre_!" then Disapparated, leaving him standing alone in the midst of the destruction. She'd be going back to Voldemort, no doubt, to tattle about his silly inhibitions. Why did he hold back? It was a Muggle, a stain on humanity! It certainly wasn't because he cared that they were dead, for he didn't, not even a little. If every Muggle, mudblood, and halfbreed in the world dropped dead, he wouldn't care. He'd be glad, in fact, to be rid of them. Except for maybe Severus… he was different, he was a friend. True friends weren't easy to come by.

In the back of his mind he knew quite well why he had hesitated: vengeance would be to dispose of Mick; doing away with random Muggles was murder, and even if they invaded his world, it didn't merit death. Not at his hands, anyway. When it came right down to it, he'd like them gone, but it wasn't his place to kill them.

Was he truly a failure as a Death Eater? Could he kill? Yes, he nodded to himself, he could—for his family, his loved ones, himself. His mouth twisted into a caricature of a smile. Lord Voldemort counted as none of those. Speaking of whom, he'd best make his appearance and take his lumps, get it over with. With a wave he Disapparated.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

"Lucius, do you love me?"

The young man lying beside her at the lake's edge cracked open one eye. "That's a stupid question, Narcissa. I tell you all the time that I love you."

Affronted, Narcissa scooted farther away from him.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm not stupid."

Lucius sighed and sat up. "I didn't say you were."

"Not explicitly. It's what you meant," she pouted.

He bit his lip to keep from saying several things not proper for a lady's ears. In his lazy drawl, speaking as if to a child, he said, "I'd appreciate it if you don't tell me what I mean. I'm well aware of what I mean. I'm marrying you in a couple of months. That should tell you something."

"Yes," she said coldly. "You made a commitment and you'll see it through because that's what a Malfoy does." She stood up, swirled her cloak around her shoulders, and started to climb up the bank.

He got up with an exasperated grunt to follow her, easily catching up and snatching hold of her hand before she'd gotten far. "Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?" Narcissa returned with the same deadpan expression found of late on Lucius' face. She yanked her hand away.

Roughly he grabbed it again, squeezing so hard she winced. His eyes bored holes through her. "Narcissa, I'm not in the mood for games."

She tugged at her hand, trying to free herself. "You're not in the mood for anything anymore! You barely notice me, you're unenthusiastic when you play Quidditch, you sit through classes like a zombie. The only things you take seriously are dueling with Bella and disappearing to go meet that Voldemort, and I'm afraid to even ask what goes on there. I know how hurt you are by Niki's and Aphrodite's deaths, but you pretend everything is fine."

Lucius' expression, or lack of one, didn't waver. "It's pointless to rehash it, don't you think? Nothing will change."

"You're wrong." A final tremendous pull gained her back her hand, which she rubbed to still the pain. "You've changed, and not for the better. I barely know you."

"I'm the same person I was before."

"Are you? When I'm in your arms, I don't feel the warmth I used to, the affection I took for granted. I may as well be in Goyle or Crabbe's arms for all the love I feel. And the worst part is, I'm not sure it would even bother you if I was!"

"Don't talk like that."

"Why not? It's the truth! Do you think I couldn't get another beau like _that_?" She snapped her fingers in his face. "One who would appreciate me and treat me like a princess, who'd be my friend, not just my fiancé. Believe me, there are plenty of boys here at Hogwart's who'd love to see me free."

Lucius' stomach lurched and his heart skipped a beat, then began to pound so ferociously he could scarcely speak. The idea of another man touching her appalled him; the idea that she might prefer to be with another man was more than he could endure. His icy façade melted; the mask he'd honed so carefully crumbled in a heap to reveal the wounded man inside.

"Are you saying you don't love me?" he squeaked.

"No." She shook her head in confusion. "I don't know what I'm saying."

In a single lunge he closed the gap between them and held out his arms tentatively, fearing rejection yet desperate to possess her, body, mind, and soul. "Please," he said softly.

Narcissa wavered, trying to decide what she ought to do. It would be so easy to end it now, before she got hurt more than she already was. Lucius would get by, nothing bothered him anymore. He'd find another pureblood wench, probably waiting in the corridor when they returned to the castle, one of those bimbos who stared shamelessly at him as if his wife-to-be wasn't actually beside him. The very thought made her blood boil. This was _her man_, her future, and she'd be damned if she'd turn him over so readily! With a determined smile, she gazed into his waiting face. Lucius Malfoy, confident and condescending, seemed so unsure, so… frail. She'd never seen him like this.

Narcissa stepped forward into his embrace. He wrapped himself around her and laid his cheek against her head as he swayed gently, just holding her, inhaling her, willing his love to seep into her skin. For the first time in what seemed like eternity, he allowed himself to _feel_. The crack on his self-imposed dam widened, sending forth the contents of his heart, and unbidden tears he could no longer keep bottled up spilled down his cheeks into her hair.

"I do love you," he whispered huskily. "I need you, Narcissa. You're the only one who gives me strength, and I'm so weak." His body shuddered under the emotion he struggled to control.

Narcissa clung to him with a fierceness she'd never before experienced. His need for her was more than empty words, it was tangible, it burned beneath her very fingers as they clutched his back and stroked his hair. With his shield lowered, his love washed over her as it once had, like the waves lapping in the lake.

"Don't leave me, Narcissa," he continued so quietly she could hardly hear him. "I can't do it… I can't do this without you."

"Do what?" she breathed.

"Live."

She raised her face to his, rendered speechless by the forlorn gray eyes pleading with her, by the tearstained cheeks of a proud Malfoy man. She gripped him so tightly she heard a light exhaled gasp, and pressed her lips to his. He responded hungrily, devouring her in a passionate fit that would have gone on at length had Narcissa not interrupted it.

"Promise me something, Lucius," she murmured, pulling away reluctantly to speak.

"Anything."

"I won't ask what Lord Voldemort makes you do, or why you need to hide your soul from everyone else. But I'm not just anybody, Lucius, I'm the one who loves you. When you hide from me I can't find you, and it breaks my heart. I can't bear it."

"I promise, my love, I'll never hide from you again," he whispered.

The words brought him a relief he dared not imagine or think possible. Unlike his father, who carefully guarded his sentiments from everyone, including his son, Lucius would have a companion to shelter him during the impending storm. Lord Voldemort's war was building, it was unavoidable. The wizarding world belonged to purebloods, of that he was certain, and even if he weren't, his side had been chosen. With Voldemort to lead the way, perhaps soon it would be done, peace could reign. Until then, no matter what face he must present to the world, no matter how deeply he delved into the evil the Death Eater life offered, he had a beacon of hope to cling to. A beautiful beacon named Narcissa.

He pressed his body against hers, nuzzling her neck, kissing her repeatedly in a frenzy of joy. He'd almost let himself forget there was bliss to be had in life, and all he had to do was love her.

The End

(Author's note: Thank you all for reading, and esp. to those who reviewed. It does help keep me on track. I had to end this fic because it is, after all, the BEGINNINGS of a Death Eater, and I hope I established satisfactorily how that came about. I'd like to pick this story up fast-forwarded three years into the future, from Severus' POV when he's a sixth year at Hogwart's. Of course, Lucius and Narcissa will play a large part. _I, Too, Shall Follow _is the name for the fanfic. Please do read the new story and review.)


	19. Chapter 19

Hello there! I am sending this notice for those who expressed interest in any original works I may write. Well, I have written a book that is now available through amazon dot com. It is called **We Were Nobles: Dach's Story**, and the author name is _Carol Notwolf._ You can read an excerpt from the e-book at that site, and I'd love it if you purchased it. Also, if you know anyone who may be interested, would you be so kind as to turn them on to the book? Thank you!

Also, I am hoping to begin a new story with Severus and Harry here on this site. If anyone has any ideas they'd like to see incorporated, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Notwolf


End file.
